


Numinous

by IllestRin



Category: Prodigal Son (TV 2019)
Genre: Animal Transformation, Beta Read, Canon-Typical Violence, Caw caw mother fucker, First Time, Friends to Lovers, Gil Arroyo has five cats fight me, Hurt/Comfort, Idiots in Love, M/M, Malcolm Bright Whump, Malcolm is actually good at his job for once, Martin Whitly's A+ Parenting, Minor Character Death, Mutual Pining, Older Man/Younger Man, Slow Burn, Tattoos, The most elaborate courtship ritual ever, Wing Kink, animal lovers, casefic, one day I will write the sex on the counter I put Malcolm on, veterinarian Malcolm Bright? Hell ye
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-24
Updated: 2020-10-25
Packaged: 2021-03-09 02:21:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 15
Words: 35,414
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27186487
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/IllestRin/pseuds/IllestRin
Summary: Martin Whitly, famed Evolutionary Geneticist has been arrested for the unethical human experimentation resulting in the deaths of numerous individuals. The only successful experiments have been on his own children, which have left them with lifelong changes they have had to learn to control. Now 31 years old, Malcolm Bright has settled into his life as a Veterinarian for a respected Avian and Wildlife Rescue and Rehabilitation Center in NYC, occasionally making house calls to check in on Lieutenant Arroyo's army of cats. When bodies start showing up exhibiting the same mutations attributed to Dr. Whitly's experiments, and the man still in confinement, who could be behind these murders?
Relationships: Gil Arroyo/Malcolm Bright
Comments: 40
Kudos: 36
Collections: Prodigal Son Big Bang 2020 - Sunday Posts





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Torched22](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Torched22/gifts), [prodigalsanyo](https://archiveofourown.org/users/prodigalsanyo/gifts).



> H O L Y S H I T. I can't believe this day has finally arrived. 3 and a half months of work. And here it is. Numinous is finally done. I am so proud of this story I can't even. 
> 
> First. SO MANY THANKS TO MY TEAM. My artist, [LavenderLizards](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Torched22/pseuds/Torched22) and my beta [ProdigalSanyo](https://archiveofourown.org/users/prodigalsanyo/pseuds/prodigalsanyo). I could not have done this without either of you. Fuck. I'm so proud of our team. 
> 
> And thanks to my other friends and Squad members for the constant encouragement. I love all of you.

Gil knocked on the entrance adorned with the number 3 and waited for the resident at home to answer the door. Dispatch had received a suspicious call and had sent him to check it out. He was near the end of his shift and just ready to head home. 

Despite the relative safety of the wealthy Upper East Side neighborhood chock full of security alarms and large purebred dogs, Gil readied himself for what was behind Door Number 3. He wasn’t expecting a grisly crime scene crafted by The Angelmaker, New York’s prolific serial killer of the decade. However, armed robbers could end more than just his career.

After another minute or two, the door opened to reveal a not quite middle aged man in a red sweater, his hair just barely starting to turn to grey at his temples. 

The man greeted Gil with a warm smile. It certainly didn't seem like there was anything amiss at the gentleman's residence this evening. "Hi, Officer. Can I help you?"

"I'm sorry to bother you so late, sir. But we received a call about a disturbance at this property and I've been sent to check it out. If you don't mind." 

"Oh, I'm sure it was nothing. Would you like to come in for a cup of tea?" The man opened the door wider and stepped aside, leaving room for Gil to walk into the elegant mansion. 

Gil walked several paces into the entrance before stopping, taking in the opulent decor. "Tea sounds great. Beautiful place you have here Mr...?" 

The other man closed the door behind them and continued into the main sitting area ahead, smiling back at his guest. "It's Doctor, actually. Dr. Whitly." 

"Beautiful place, Dr. Whitly." 

"Sadly, I cannot take credit. This place has been in my wife's family for many generations of Miltons." 

Gil nodded along with this new piece of information, already deciding that he will leave instead of slapping Dr. Whitly with a fine for dialing 911. Nothing _seemed_ amiss. 

"Now, how about that tea? And then we can figure out what this nonsense is all about."

A cup of tea sounded really nice after the long night he has already had. "That would be wonderful, thank you."

Dr. Whitly paused before going further. "If you don't mind staying here just a moment, I'll be back in a jiffy. Tea bags are in the kitchen and the staff has gone home for the evening."

Gil nodded at the doctor and adopted a more comfortable pose, standing there in the entrance of the luxurious mansion that Gil could only ever _dream_ of owning. He watches the doctor presumably walk off in the direction of the kitchen for their tea bags and resigns himself to wait for however long. 

Gil started to grow bored after a few minutes. He felt very out of place in such an ostentatious house. Could this place even be called a house? It was definitely a mansion. Were his shoes clean enough? Gil looked down to check that he hadn't tracked mud across the polished floor.

A pair of slipper donned feet entered his field of view, and Gil raised his eyes to appraise the young boy who approached him. The boy only wore a pair of pajama bottoms and slippers and it was the middle of winter. It was odd to see a young boy shirtless this time of year, but this was Dr. Whitly’s home. Who was Gil to judge?

"What's up, kid?" Gil smiled kindly down at the young boy. 

"You should take out your gun."

Gil blinked hard, shocked. "Excuse me?"

"My father, he's going to kidnap you. And then experiment on you. It'll kill you, sir." 

The young boy stepped in front of Gil, startling Gil with a full view of his back. 

Starting at the top of his shoulders and spreading down the length of his back was an intricate tattoo of black bird wings which shimmered in the light of the Milton mansion entryway. Why did a child have a tattoo? Let alone one that covered such an expansive amount of the boy's skin. Gil couldn't shake the instinctive feeling that the tattoo was unnatural.

"Kid. What's going on?" Gil put his hand on his service weapon in case there was more to the situation than he knew.

"My father. He's the Angelmaker. I called for help. You have to help me, Officer."

The young boy earnestly appealed to Gil with his wide blue eyes, trembling with fear too intense for Gil to write him off as a prankster. 

Gil assessed the challenges of protecting Dr. Whitly’s family in a potentially deadly situation without compromising the kid’s safety or his own. 

"Is there anyone else here besides us and your father?" 

"Mother and my sister Ainsley are out at the ballet tonight. It's just us." 

"Ok. That's good. Good." Gil’s heart sank for the little boy and his innocent family. Then adrenaline edged Gil into cold suspicion the longer that he waited for Dr. Whitly’s tea. 

"Kid. What's your name?" Gil asked the young boy, keeping his voice quiet. 

"Malcolm Whitly, sir."

"Ok. Malcolm. Good. My name is Gil Arroyo. Ok? What we need to do now is get you somewhere safe. Where is your room? I'll take you there? I need to call this in."

"This way." Malcolm pointed towards a hallway. 

Gil followed a step behind Malcolm, keeping a hand on the gun at his hip just in case. He couldn’t help but occasionally glance at Malcolm's tattoo. Once they were out of harm's way and Dr. Whitly was dealt with, Gil would discover the boldly inked mystery of Malcolm’s wings. 

"Where do you think you are going with my son, Officer?"

The blood in Gil's veins ran cold and he stopped dead in his tracks.

Dr. Whitly then attacked Gil from behind. 

Gil didn’t even get a chance to turn around or draw his gun before Dr. Whitly violently shoved him to the wall. He groaned, momentarily stunned by Dr. Whitly’s strength. 

"No! Father!" 

"This doesn't concern you, Malcolm! You shouldn't even be out of your room! Where is your shirt? You know never to show off your back when we have company over." The kindly gentleman who had received Gil at the door had all but disappeared. In his place loomed The Angelmaker, a calculated killer.

Gil scrambled to recover. His own survival as well as the safety of countless others landed squarely on him. He couldn't let Malcolm down.

"Dr. Whitly, I'm taking you into custody on suspicion of child abuse and for assault of a police officer." Without hard evidence linking Dr. Whitly to The Angelmaker murders across the city, Gil did his best until Homicide could secure a warrant. 

Dr. Whitly snarled at Gil, enraged. "Child abuse?! I didn't abuse my children! I evolved them. I made them better. They are far superior to you and every other plebeian out there!"

In the limited space of close quarters, he advanced on Gil with the supremacy of a larger predator. "You are a mere homo sapiens, whereas I have engineered the homo volucris. Wouldn't you like to evolve beyond mere humanity, Officer?" 

A shout from the other end of the hallway caught the attention of both men. 

"Father! I.. I.. can't stop it!" 

The young boy collapsed onto his knees, toppling forward and barely catching himself on his hands. Malcolm heavily panted as beads of sweat dripped down his skin.

"Malcolm?" Gil leapt to help the agitated young boy. 

"Don't you dare come close to my boy! Look at him! He's beautiful, and you are about to see something truly amazing." Dr. Whitly turned away to watch his son, even as the boy trembled uncomfortably on his hands and knees. 

With Dr. Whitly distracted by his son, Gil seized a nearby vase from a hallway table and smashed it over Dr. Whitly’s prideful expression. Dr. Whitly fell unconscious to the floor. 

Gil quickly cuffed Dr. Whitly's arms behind his back before getting up and rushing over to the young boy.

"Malcolm! What's happening?" Gil dropped to his knees right next to the young boy. Gil's hands hovered above Malcolm for a minute before he patted himself down for the radio. 

As if by magic, black feathers materialized where Malcolm’s tattoo stretched across his scrawny little back. Stunned by the sight before him, Gil missed his chance to radio in his precinct. 

Malcolm raised his head with a pleading look to Gil. His blue eyes shined unnaturally bright as his black wings unfurled over his small body, panting with the effort. "Officer… Gil.. help.. me."

Gil couldn't believe his eyes. This kid had _wings_. 

"What's going on, Malcolm?" 

"I.. I don't know. This happens… sometimes.. he did something to me and my sister. I don't know what." Malcolm flapped his wings a few times, using that as leverage to sit back on his heels. His gaze darted to his father laying on the floor, handcuffed among the scattered debris of what was probably a _very_ expensive vase. 

"Is he..?" Malcolm's voice is quiet, afraid to say the words. 

Gil looked over his shoulder at the unconscious Dr. Whitly. "No. But I'm not sure how long he'll be out cold." He looked back at Malcolm, unable to quit staring at the giant protruding appendages. 

"You have… wings." 

"I know." 

Gil slowly stood up and offered a hand to Malcolm, helping him to stand as well. 

A boy with wings. Well, now he's seen everything. 

Malcolm faced Gil with concern. "You're not going to lock me and Ainsley up, are you?"

Gil was horrified. He would never. "What? No. Of course not. Where would you get such an idea?"

Oh. He had an idea of who might. 

Gil glanced back at the still and unconscious form of his aggressor. 

"My father said that if anyone found out about me and my sister, we would be taken away." 

Gil's heart ached for what Malcolm and his sister must have gone through at the hands of their father. 

Gil turned towards Malcolm and crouched down in front of him, laying a hand against the back of his neck. 

"I will never let that happen. Do you understand me?" 

He smiled at Gil, looking the most at ease he had seemed since Gil had met him. Malcolm nodded, his wings fluttering behind him before he closed his eyes. With a look of extreme concentration, he withdrew his wings, leaving only the tattoo behind. 

"Are you ok now, Malcolm? I've got to call this in." 

Gil received another nod in answer. 

"Go get a shirt and meet me back here." 

Gil watched as Malcolm scurried off in the direction of his bedroom. Gil waited until Malcolm was out of sight before grabbing the radio from his gear and calling dispatch for additional units. He took a moment to glance down at Dr. Whitly on the ground, thankfully still out cold. 

Gil sighed. “Prick.” 

This has been a very long night.

Something from the corner of his eye caught Gil's attention, and he turned towards where Malcolm was once standing. Laying on the floor was one beautifully shimmering black feather. 

Gil leaned down and plucked it up, twirling it, watching how the light picked up the subtle blue iridescence along the length of the feather. He carefully tucked it away in his vest.

It wasn't long before Malcolm returned, fully dressed this time. 

"I have to ask, Malcolm. Why did you come out to meet me without a shirt? It's the middle of winter, kid. Surely you must be cold." He glanced over at Malcolm, who was staring at his father with an unreadable expression on his face. 

"I had to make you believe me, Officer." 

Gil kneeled down in front of Malcolm, holding out a small candy he had pulled from his pocket. The young boy hesitantly accepted. 

"You're a real hero." He rubbed the back of Malcolm's neck in a comforting gesture.

"Don't you ever forget it."

Gil stood when he heard pounding at the door, announcing the arrival of other officers. NYPD would arrest Malcolm's father, hopefully get into contact with his mother, and get the ball rolling on getting a judge to sign off on warrants to search for evidence.

But if there was one thing Gil knew, it was that, no matter what, he would keep his promise to that boy. 

He vowed to never put Malcolm or his sister in a cage, not if he had any say in it. 

Gil paused in front of the door, taking a moment before he opened the door to let in the other law enforcement officers. He glanced back at Malcolm standing several paces behind him.

Gil knew that no matter what happened, his fate was inextricably tied with Malcolm Whitly.


	2. Chapter 1

**20 years later.**

_ring ring_

"Hello, this is the Wild Bird Fund Rehabilitation Center. How may I help you?" The receptionist answered the phone in a chipper voice, as she grabbed the nearby stationary and a pen.

"Alright. Can you tell me the location?" She jots down the pertinent information on her notepad, humming. 

"Thank you. I'll send someone out to check on the bird right now." 

She hung up the office phone before standing, brushing her hands down the front of her pants. 

The young woman walks towards one of the non avian rooms where one of their Veterinarians is currently bottle feeding an orphaned squirrel. 

"Dr. Bright, we've got a rescue." 

Malcolm looks up, startled. "Oh, best be on my way then. This little one was about done with his feeding in any case." He gently returns the tiny grey squirrel to its carrier, closing the door. 

"Thanks, Tiffany. Can you have Marcus get the van ready while I wash up and grab my go bag?"

The cheerful receptionist gives Malcolm a mock salute and a grin before retreating to fulfill her assigned task. 

Malcolm walks over to the in room sink to wash his hands, thinking over what he might need to grab for a rescue. 

Drying his hands off on a paper towel, Malcolm exits the non avian room, closing the room behind him, stopping in his office to grab his supply bag before pausing to check in with the front desk. 

"What kind of rescue is it today?" 

"The caller found a bird, doesn't seem to be too injured, but it is definitely unable to fly currently. Over by the Starbucks on Lexington. Not a raptor." 

Malcolm breathed a secret sigh of relief. He _hated_ working with raptors. 

Especially hawks. 

Malcolm suppresses a shudder at the thought, turning his thoughts back to the pending rescue at hand. 

"Is Marcus in the van already?" 

"Yep."

"I guess we'll be back in a bit. I've got my phone if you get a call about another rescue while I'm out." She waved at him before picking up a magazine off the front desk, leafing through it. 

Malcolm walked out the front door of Wild Bird Fund Rehabilitation Center out to the waiting van parked out front, opening up the passenger door and climbing in. 

"Hey Dr. B! Tiff tell you where we were headed?"

Malcolm liked Marcus. He was a bright intern working his way through the same undergraduate program Malcolm attended at Cornell University. 

"At the Starbucks by Lexington, so close by," replied Malcolm. 

"Think we'll have time to grab a coffee after the rescue?" asked Marcus.

Malcolm gives him an unimpressed look. 

"I was joking! Let's go rescue a bird!" 

Thanks to the mid morning traffic, it took them over 15 minutes to get to their destination. 

"There!" Malcolm excitedly points to the one available spot he can see on the side of the road. "Get it before someone else does!"

"Alright, alright. I got it! This isn't my first rodeo, Dr. B." Marcus grumbles, pulling the WBF van to a stop two buildings away from the Starbucks.

Malcolm climbs out of the van with his medical supply bag, hoping the rescue won't be too hard to find. Or too injured. 

It didn't take long for Malcolm to find the bird in need of his help. The bird was sitting on the ground outside of the Starbucks, occasionally making an awful squawk. 

Thankfully, people were giving the bird its space, but Malcolm would prefer to get this rescue back to WBF as soon as possible. 

"Marcus, if you could grab the medium size carrier from the back of the van, that would be much appreciated. Thank you." 

Malcolm set down his medical bag a distance from the bird and opened it, grabbing a fresh pair of gloves and pulling them on. 

Marcus sets the carrier down next to him. "Thanks, Marcus. Can you tell just by looking from here what species that is?" 

"About a foot long.. blue head, brown body… common grackle?" 

"I believe you are correct." 

Malcolm makes his way slowly over to the bird sitting on the concrete, talking in a soft voice. 

"Despite being called common, their appearance is anything but. The iridescence in their plumage is really quite striking. Even the feathers on their body aren't just plain brown, it's a beautiful bronze colour."

Malcolm kneeled a distance from the injured grackle, observing. It didn't seem aggressive at least. 

"Hey friend. I'm here to help." Malcolm cooed softly to the bird on the ground, slowly reaching out a hand as the bird looked up at him and squawked. 

Malcolm gently picked up the common grackle, doing a cursory examination, and finding one of its wings broken, and wincing in sympathy. Poor thing probably flew into one of the glass windows and fell. It was such a common occurrence in a city such as this, and window strikes accounted for a fair portion of the rescues Malcolm was called out to.

Malcolm knew _exactly_ what that was like unfortunately. 

Ainsley will never let him live that down. 

"Marcus, if you could bring the carrier over here, we can safely secure our new friend and be on our way."

"Sure thing, Dr. B. How is it?" Malcolm could hear the concern in the intern's voice. He would make a great Veterinarian one day.

"Stunned with a broken wing. Nothing a little R&R at WBF can't fix."

Malcolm finishes placing the injured bird gently in the carrier for transport back to WBF, thankful it was cooperative and the outlook was promising. 

"There we go." He stood up and handed the carrier off to Marcus before taking off his gloves and tucking them in the trash pocket of his medical bag.

Then something under a nearby bush caught his attention.

Leaning down, Malcolm retrieves a shiny penny from the ground, and wipes off the residual dirt on his pants leg before holding it up to inspect. 

"What have you got there, Dr. B?" 

"A shiny penny! And a good year, too. Hard to believe one from 1998 would be in such nice condition after so long." Maybe Gil would like it. Malcolm tucks the coin in his scrub pocket for safe keeping.

"Aren't you rich or something? What do you need with a penny off the scummy sidewalks of New York City?" 

Malcolm smiles at his assistant. "It's just the way I am." 

Marcus chuckles. "You sure are a weird one."

"So they tell me."

Malcolm starts walking towards the van. "Come on. Let's get our newest patient back to base."

Marcus secures their newest patient in the back of the van while Malcolm swings himself into the passenger seat, already thinking over what he might need back at WBF for the common grackle to help speed its recovery when his cell phone starts to vibrate with a call. 

Pulling it out, he checks the ID and answers.

"Ainsley. How're the Gardens today?" 

"You would know the rhododendrons and azaleas were in bloom currently if you had been by lately to visit." 

"I'm sorry, Ains. Been busy with the rescue. I promise I'll stop by the Gardens next week when I hopefully have some time off. Now, what's up? It's a bit early for a call." Malcolm pulled the phone away from his ear to check the time which was only around 1 in the afternoon. She would know he was still at work. 

"I'm giving you a heads up before Mom calls you sometime this week. She seems stressed about something." 

"Thanks for the warning, Ainsley. I'll come by the Gardens for a visit soon. I promise." Malcolm can hear someone talking to her in the background. "I'll let you go. Bye Ains." She wishes him well and they both hang up. 

The return trip to WBF takes just as long of a drive in the mid morning traffic. Malcolm gets the common grackle into one of his exam rooms and sees to his new patient. The broken wing is gently set, a splint and wrap applied, and the injured appendage immobilized for healing. Any additional minor injuries are cleaned and treated. The prognosis is good, and after a short recovery the common grackle can be released. 

The rest of the day was mostly uneventful, just taking care of the patients they currently had in house. 

At the end of the day, Malcolm checks on each of the patients one last time before dimming the lights, turning on the security, and locking the door to the Wild Bird Fund Rehabilitation Center for the night. When he catches sight of the shiny black Le Mans parked out front, Malcolm feels a flutter of delight. 

He spots Gil and hastens his step towards the waiting man, who pulls him into a tight hug.

"Gil! I didn't know you were going to be here." 

Gil pulls back. "I was in the area. You hungry, kid?" 

"I could eat." Gil guides him towards the car and opens the door for Malcolm, shutting it behind his friend. 

While Gil walks around to get in the driver's side, Malcolm's attention is caught by one of his own feathers adorned with beads and jewelry wire hanging from the rearview mirror. Malcolm gently taps the feather charm, watching it sway, and he smiles. 

"You know I could give you another feather to replace this one." Malcolm knows how much this feather means to his friend, for him to hold onto it for twenty years, and has no plans to ever replace this particular feather. 

Gil chuckles. "Yeah, I'm still finding feathers from when you went through your last molt. You make a mess of it every time, bird boy." 

Malcolm couldn't help but blush a little. "Sorry. But they itch when I can't get them all out. And I'm sure the cats enjoy playing with some of them." 

Gil reaches out to ruffle at Malcolm's hair. "I've had this feather since the day I met you. It's special. I'm not replacing it." Gil looks at the charm fondly. Malcolm had enlisted Ainsley's help to turn Malcolm's first fallen feather into a true work of art, and he had gifted it to Gil for his birthday several years back. 

Malcolm looks over at Gil, his hand having fallen to Malcolm's shoulder. 

"Oh! Before I forget. I found something for you today!" Malcolm reaches into his scrub pocket and pulls out the shiny penny. He holds it out for Gil, grinning happily. 

"What did you find today? Oh, is this for me? Thank you, Malcolm." Gil takes the penny from Malcolm's offered hand, appraising it for a moment, before he carefully tucks it away in his own pocket. He smiles at Malcolm. "You know how much I love gifts from you." 

Malcolm would fluff up his feathers if he were in his feathered form right now. 

"So, what are we doing for dinner then?"

"I thought we would just pick up something on the way back to my place. I'm sure it's been a while since you've let your feathers down."

Malcolm nods. That does sound nice.

They pick up some sandwiches at a deli on the way to Gil's house, and Malcolm feels any tension he had drain out of him. Just enjoying the time he spends with Gil. Any time that he spends with the other man is a pleasure. 

Before long, the Le Mans is safely stored for the evening, and Gil is closing the door behind the both of them. 

Gil lived in a modest, unattached house by himself. 

Well, himself and five cats. 

Malcolm gently falls to his knees as a literal army of large fluffy grey Maine coon mix cats rush in to greet Gil and their visitor. 

Malcolm brushes his fingers across the tops of each of their heads, greeting each one by name. It had only been a few weeks since his last visit to the Arroyo household, but he was missed all the same. 

"I see you Squink, don't worry. Yes Gable, I've got scritches for you and Boba." The smallest of the five rolls onto her back for Malcolm to rub her belly. "I love you too Dzikus." His attention is grabbed by the last of five cats that plucks at his scrub top with his claws. "Ok ok Kluski, I haven't forgotten about you!" Malcolm chuckles and quickly pets the impatient cat. 

Gil walks around the group on the ground, smiling all the while. He drops their food off on the coffee table and collapses back into the couch while Malcolm catches up with his fluffy fleet. Malcolm will join him when he's ready. 

"Make sure to eat before you change." Gil tries to remind him. 

He hears grumbling from behind the couch amidst the cacophony of meowing cats, all vying for Malcolm's attention. 

Gil leans forward and opens the bag containing their dinner, pulling out a sandwich. He checks that it's his by the pen markings before opening it, taking a bite, and groaning softly. It had been a long day. 

Gil finishes half of his sandwich before Malcolm finally joins him on the couch. Malcolm grabs his sandwich and finally starts to eat, his energy for the rest of the night apparent. 

Gil looks over at him, attempting to ignore one of the cats climbing in his lap for affection. "Are you excited already?" 

"I can't help it. You know how much I enjoy nights like these." Malcolm smiles at him, full of joy. 

"What does Ainsley do to, you know, scratch the itch?" Gil reaches out a hand and runs his fingers down the back of Boba as the cat walks by. 

Malcolm takes a moment to chew the bite of his sandwich before answering. "She works overtime at the Brooklyn Botanic Garden. Gets her fill of the flowers. I go with her sometimes."

Malcolm only makes it through half of his sandwich before his restless energy gets the best of him. He stands and stretches, walking to the kitchen to put away his leftover sandwich. "Do you want anything?" Malcolm calls out to Gil, looking in the fridge, feeling just as at home here as he is in his own home. 

"Nothing for now. Thanks, bird boy."

He closes the fridge and moves over to where he's going to change. 

Malcolm removes his scrub top, folding it and placing it on the back of the chair, even though the bottom half of his clothes will end up in a pile soon enough. Malcolm closes his eyes, breathes in, breathes out, and lets the change happen. 

What was once a terrifying experience in his youth only brings pleasure now, either by just bringing forth just his wings or his full form. The tingling begins in his back, as he starts to sprout feathers while simultaneously shrinking and changing in form. 

Malcolm flaps his wings a few times to clear the pile of scrub pants and shoes which he leaves behind. Letting out a soft 'caw' as he flies around the living room once, twice. Trailed by a clowder of cats. 

Malcolm isn't worried though, not like he would be if these were any old random cats he had happened across while in his feathered form. 

These cats grew up around Malcolm. Not just Malcolm the human, but Malcolm the crow. 

Malcolm lands on top of the refrigerator, spreading both of his wings and flapping a few times, ignoring Gil laughing at his display. 

Malcolm is a very impressive crow and he knows it. 

He spends the majority of the next hour or two chasing the cats, or being chased by them. He rides on top of Gable for a while, trying to keep his balance with his wings out, not wanting to dig his talons into the cat's fur. 

Malcolm loves their monthly games. Or more often when he can have them. 

Gil is endlessly amused by their antics, only ducking out to change into some lounge pants and a well worn shirt before returning to his spot on the couch to continue watching. 

After a while, Malcolm was beginning to tire, but not nearly ready to return to his human form, or even just his human form with wings. At Gil's sharp whistle, his head snaps up and he sees the other man gesture towards himself. 

A few flaps of his wings and he settles on the cushion next to Gil, and looks up at him, tilting his head. 

"Caw." 

Gil chuckles. "Come on, bird boy." He taps his lap. "Hop up." 

Another flap of his wings and Malcolm is situated in Gil's warm lap, his heavy hand stroking head to tail. 

It's perfect. 

Malcolm can't help but hope the cats keep their distance for the evening. He likes them just fine. But this is _his_ time with Gil. They get him all to themselves the rest of the time. 

Squink climbs up on the arm of the couch, tail flickering, watching Malcolm get his feathers stroked by their owner. He cannot help but let out a warning "caw" at the cat that Gil's lap is his tonight. 

Gil taps him on the head and he looks up into dark, amused eyes. "Stop that, Malcolm." 

He fluffs up his feathers and huffs. 

Gil resumes stroking Malcolm's feathers, shifting a few back into place as he goes. 

"Do you have work tomorrow?" Gil scratches underneath Malcolm's bill. If he were a cat, he would purr. "And keep to the system this time. One for yes and two for no."

Malcolm replies two caws for no. He has the day off _technically_ , but that doesn't mean he might not stop in the rescue in the afternoon to check on his patients anyway. 

But for now, he has nowhere to be. 

And nowhere he would rather be. 

And with that thought, feeling so incredibly at peace, warm and safe with the man he trusts more than anything, Malcolm closes his eyes, and finds sleep soon after.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The Wild Bird Fund is a real bird rescue located in NYC. I have become absolutely smitten with them and urge everyone to check out their fb page and Twitter. Their daily posts are witty and fun, and I love to think my Malcolm was writing them.


	3. Chapter 2

"Now, now, Malcolm.. if you don't move.. this will.. all.. be.. over.. soon.." 

Malcolm cannot move. He cannot move his arms. He cannot move his legs. He cannot move his head. 

The panic is starting to set in.

What is this?

"Now, just relax, Malcolm." 

He tries to move. Why can't he move?

Dr. Martin Whitly leans into his field of view, wearing a surgical mask and holding up a syringe in his gloved hands.

This isn't right. 

He can't move. Why can't he move?!

"I'm doing this for you Malcolm." 

Blinding pain shoots down his back near his left shoulder blade, spreading.

"I'm evolving you, Malcolm." 

Nerve rending pain sears down his back near his right shoulder blade, branching. 

"Soon… you will be… magnificent… my boy.." 

He can't move. 

"Malcolm…"

Someone. Please. Make the pain stop. 

"Malcolm…"

Help!

"Malcolm!" 

Malcolm's eyes snap open in terror, barely aware of his surroundings, his throat raw from screaming.

"Malcolm! You're safe. You're safe. It's only me, Gil." 

Through an immense amount of willpower, Malcolm manages to close his mouth and stop screaming, only managing to whimper.

"I know kid, I know. It's ok." Gil shushes him, brushing his sweaty hair back from his forehead before placing a soft kiss on Malcolm's clammy skin. "It's ok, kid. It was a nightmare. You're safe." 

Malcolm tries to slow his panting breaths. He focuses on the soothing tone of Gil's calming mantra of safety whispered into his hair and the grounding reassurance of Gil's fingers gently stroking his back at the point where his wings grow from him. His wings, raised high, are trembling.

Malcolm raises his head, slowly meeting Gil's eyes, just now realizing the death grip he has on the other man's shirt, forcing his fingers to loosen his hold on the fabric. 

"Gil…?" His voice is barely a whisper, throat scratchy from screaming. 

"Are you ok now?" The naked compassion on Gil's face takes Malcolm's breath away. 

"What happened?" 

"You fell asleep, and then I fell asleep. And then you had a nightmare and changed. Do you want to talk about it?" 

_I'm evolving you Malcolm..._

Once more, Malcolm shuts his eyes tight. He pulls his trembling wings down and covers the both of them. In a low voice, barely over a whisper. "It was _him_. And what… he.. did to me."

Gil shushes him. "He can never hurt you again, Malcolm."

Malcolm yawns, still tired, before he has a moment of panic when he realizes his state of dress. 

Or, rather, undress. 

"Oh, god, Gil! I'm so sorry. I didn't mean to wake you and now I'm naked and on top of you and we are on your couch and-" Malcolm snaps his mouth shut, aware that he is rambling. "Let me go put my pants on." 

Gil releases his arms from around the man lying sprawled across his lap. "I'll groom your wings a bit once you do. I can see a few out of place." 

Malcolm is very thankful that Gil doesn't mention the _very_ obvious blush spreading across his face, and down his bare chest. Malcolm moves his wings to try and cover his bits as he makes his way over to his discarded scrub pants before he can quickly shimmy them on and cover himself. 

He turns around to face Gil again, about to ask if the addition of his pants made everything better when he accidentally knocks over a small pile of books on a side table with one wing. "Oh, shit! Sorry Gil." Malcolm quickly leans down to start picking up the books to restack on the table. 

Once the table and stack of books is righted, Malcolm looks up to see Gil standing by the couch and grinning at him.

"What?"

"It's nice to see that the more that things change… the more they stay the same." 

Malcolm huffs. "I'm not that clumsy." 

"Kid, you clearly do not remember your teenage years the same way I do. I stopped leaving out glass items because of you and those wings of yours. Come on. Let's groom your wings and then I'll fix up the guest room for you." 

Malcolm sits down on the coffee table in front of the couch, turning his back to the couch where Gil sits down. 

Malcolm looks over his shoulder for a moment at the other man before he stretches out his wings a bit for easier access. Gil gets right to work, setting feathers that have come out of place, gently plucking an occasional broken feather and setting it aside, making sure he does a thorough job. 

Malcolm almost slips into a trance while Gil grooms his wings. He is so careful with him, so gentle. He always has been. With his secret. With his additional appendages. Gil has never viewed him as a freak of nature, and that has made a tremendous impact on his life. A positive impact. 

Gil buries his hands into the feathers at the base of his wings, scratching his short nails against the sensitive skin where his wings grow and Malcolm has to bite his tongue to stifle a groan at the feeling. 

He unfortunately cannot control the fluttering that presents in his wings at the sensation. 

"Malcolm, are you ok?" 

"I-I'm just fine. Thank you for grooming my wings, Gil." Malcolm tries to will his traitorous wings back under control. The sooner he can put them away, the better. It's not _his_ fault that Gil's hands feel sinfully pleasurable. 

Just. This. Gil grooming his wings. 

And not just him grooming his wings, but just the casual intimacy that they have fallen into over the last several years. 

Just hanging out. Spending time together.

_Gil smiling at him._

Malcolm's eyes flutter closed as he considers the man sitting behind him, smoothing out errant black feathers. 

_Gil smiling at him._

Malcolm could look upon that man smiling at him every day for the rest of his life. 

_**Gil smiling at him.** _

Malcolm brings a hand up to rub at his chest, trying to ease the blooming warmth behind his breastbone. 

But it's not a truly _physical_ sensation. It's something…. _more._

Malcolm shivers. 

"Cold?" 

Malcolm looks back over his shoulder at Gil again. "No.. I'm actually quite warm. It's weird."

"Huh." Gil reaches a hand up to Malcolm's forehead, moving to his cheek next before dropping his hand to Malcolm's shoulder. "You feel alright. Your wings look much better now. Are you ready to sleep, Malcolm?" Gil gives Malcolm's shoulder a squeeze before he stands up. 

"I'll go freshen up the guest room and be right back." Malcolm just nods at him, staring after Gil's retreating back, lowering a hand to absent-mindedly brush across the back of a passing cat. 

_What is this?_

Malcolm shakes his head. 

Malcolm stands up and spreads out his wings slightly, checking on the condition of them. Gil always does such a great job grooming them, especially since Malcolm cannot reach all of his feathers. Ainsley isn't always available and her smaller wings don't need to be groomed to the same extent as his own.

He brushes the fingers of his hand down one of his extended wings. Besides his mother and Ainsley, only Gil knows about his wings.

Malcolm brings a wing forward and rubs his face against his soft feathers, just enjoying the sensation for a moment. 

Gil clears his throat, startling Malcolm, who throws his wings out and accidentally knocks over a signed Yankees baseball display container on the coffee table. 

"I'm glad that's just a novelty baseball and the real one is safe in my room where your wings can't break it." 

Malcolm quickly rights the case on the table, feeling bad about it anyway. He's had wings for most of his life and he still continues to knock things over like a clumsy oaf. 

But when Malcolm looks up at Gil, he is again struck by the older man's kind smile. Gil is never upset with him when he knocks things over, exasperated maybe, but never upset with Malcolm. 

Malcolm can still feel that soft, comfortable warmth in his chest when he looks up at Gil's amused face. 

It's a new sensation perhaps, but it doesn't feel harmful. It makes him want to…. present his wings for Gil's approval. Huh. Weird. 

"Are you keeping them out all night?" Gil gestures to his wings with a hand. 

He really kind of wants to, but the guest bed isn't large enough to fit him _and_ his feathery appendages. 

Malcolm closes his eyes and concentrates, concealing his wings within himself, until all that is left behind is the extensive tattoo left behind by his father's evolutionary experiments. Malcolm rolls his shoulders a few times as the tingling sensation subsides. 

"Feel better after stretching your wings?" 

"Well, I'd love to get out in the open air soon, but I always love coming here to play with the cats and spend time with you." Malcolm walks over to fetch his scrub top to wear to sleep, leaning down to gently scratch the back of a passing cat as he walks by. 

"Do you need anything before I turn in, Malcolm?" Gil half turns towards the back hall while Malcolm shrugs his shirt on.

"I'm sure you've had a long day, and you've had to deal with me. I won't stay up much longer."

Gil gives Malcolm a considering look for a moment, an unreadable expression on his face. When he turns to slowly walk down the hall to his room, Gil throws one last comment over his shoulder as he goes. "Malcolm, despite what you have always thought, you have never been a burden to me. Goodnight."

Malcolm rubs his hand against the center of his chest again, the soft and warm feeling returning.

He goes through the house and shuts off the lights, Kluski trailing after him through his task. 

When Malcolm finally enters the Arroyo household guest room, it's a place of familiarity. It only contains a full bed along one wall, a dresser on the other, and a bedside table. But it's a room Malcolm frequently stayed in growing up when he needed some freedom from his mother's guilt, relief from his tutors, or just distance from the 'Angelmaker' hanging over him. 

When Malcolm finally curls up under the soft sheets that smell of Gil's familiar detergent, he falls asleep quickly, feeling absolutely safe.


	4. Chapter 3

Malcolm comes to consciousness slowly, comfortably. Feeling well rested for once, which is always a bit of a shock. It's nice not having to go into the rescue first thing in the morning, but he should probably get up at least. 

Gil is already at the kitchen counter nursing a cup of coffee when Malcolm joins him, army of cats winding around his ankles crying out for affection. 

"Morning, Malcolm." He slides a freshly poured cup of coffee his way and Malcolm nods his thanks, holding the cup and inhaling the fragrance. 

"Morning, Gil. What's on your agenda for today?" He hops up on the counter to sit, ignoring Gil's eyeroll at his perch. 

Gil tops off his coffee before turning to Malcolm, considering. "Well, if I don't get called in, would you like some breakfast before I take you back to your place?" 

Malcolm nods. 

Gil barely has a chance to start pulling out eggs and bacon to start making them breakfast before his cell phone starts ringing on the counter next to Malcolm's hip. 

Gil grabs his phone and hits the answer call button. "Lieutenant Arroyo speaking."

He turns away from Malcolm to take the call, his tone and demeanor demonstrating the seriousness of the call. 

Something happened. 

Gil hangs up and turns back towards Malcolm, looking decidedly unhappy. "Sorry kid, rain check on breakfast. I've got a crime scene to be getting to." 

Malcolm perks up. "Oh, can I come with you?"

Gil frowns. "I don't think-"

Malcolm interrupts him, earnestly. "Oh come on! It'll be like old times. When I used to come with you on stake outs." Malcolm pleads with Gil, clasping both of his hands together in front of him. The effect is minimized by the fact that he is still sitting on the counter in front of Gil. 

"There is a sizable difference between stake outs and an active crime scene, Malcolm."

"You'll hardly even know I'm there." 

Gil lets out a long suffering sigh, already accepting defeat. 

"Fine. But you will stay out of the way. You touch nothing."

Malcolm hops off the counter. "Excellent! Let me go change real quick and then we can go solve a crime!" 

"Malcolm, I'm not even dressed yet. And _we_ are not solving anything. _You_ are just tagging along. And you are going to do as you're told." Gil was already regretting agreeing to this, but it was hard to say no to that face. Malcolm knew exactly what he was doing when he turned those puppy eyes on. 

Once both were dressed, Malcolm in a spare set of scrubs, and Gil in a light sweater for the spring weather, they made their way to the crime scene. 

Malcolm trails behind Gil towards the cordoned off apartment building, the flashing lights of police cruisers lining the streets outside. It definitely brings back memories. 

"Lieutenant Arroyo, who is this?" One of Gil's detectives caught up with them as they walked past the yellow caution tape. 

"This is Dr. Malcolm Bright, veterinarian. I brought him. Malcolm, this is Detective Dani Powell." Gil mentions of the man trailing behind him, donned in a blue scrub uniform. 

"Why in the hell did you bring a veterinarian to a crime scene?" 

"Long story. Where is the victim?" 

"This way, boss." She points towards a back room as they make their way through the apartment.

"I gotta warn you. It's a weird one." They trail after her, avoiding a few uniformed officers in the hallway.

"You have to see for yourself. I can't explain it." 

Gil nods. 

It's not hard to notice the body when they reach the back room. The medical examiner greets them. 

"Ah! Lieutenant Arroyo, so glad to see you. Who is your cute friend?" 

Gil doesn't give Dr. Tanaka an answer, too focused on the body in front of him.

The body was laying face down on the floor in the middle of the room. It was a man whose brown hair was cut short. His shirt was missing, which left Gil to see the obvious injuries to his back. The man's flesh was torn open by his shoulder blades, and protruding from his back were two lengths of translucent skin wrapped bone barely a foot and a half long each. A few small white feathers hang off of the unnatural appendages.

Gil covers his mouth with his hand in shock. 

No. 

He hasn't seen these sort of injuries on a victim in _twenty years._

He is brought out of his concentration by a keening cry behind him. 

☆

Malcolm backs up into the wall. As far as he can go. 

He's not seeing this. 

_He can't be seeing this._

He can't breathe. Why can't he breathe? 

Malcolm closes his eyes to block out the sight of the man on the floor. He looks just like all of his father's victims. Malcolm covers his ears with his hands, unable to deal with any sounds, anything. Malcolm is only vaguely aware that he's made a pitiful sound involuntarily around multiple strange people. 

He feels strong arms surround him tightly, and is pulled against a familiar chest. 

_Gil._

Malcolm slowly removes his hands from his ears, trying to ground himself in the sensation of the man holding him. The firm pressure of the arms around him. The comforting woodsy scent he associates with Gil. Malcolm wraps his arms slowly around the other man, and presses his face against Gil's neck. He can feel Gil carding fingers through his hair, and speaking low, calming words into his ear, but he cannot understand the words being said. 

Malcolm clings to Gil with all that he is worth. 

"Shhh.. it's ok Malcolm. Calm down. And I'll get you out of here."

Malcolm mumbles into the skin of Gil's neck.

"What?" 

He breathes for a moment. Trying to slow his heart rate. Trying to slow his panic. He can do this. Gil is here. Gil will keep him safe. Gil has always kept him safe. 

Malcolm pulls back and looks up into Gil's eyes and barely whispers, "It can't be him, Gil. He's still in prison."

"Lieutenant Arroyo. What's going on? _Who is this guy_?" asks one of Gil’s detectives. 

Malcolm continues to cling to Gil, and thankfully Gil doesn't pull away yet. He's not ready to let go. Not ready to face the demons of his past. Malcolm is so thankful that he got his abilities under control _years_ ago because a panic attack like that is exactly the type of situation that used to cause his wings to manifest. 

"He's with me, Detective Tarmel. Check in with Powell and start a sweep of the apartment without me." Detective Tarmel acknowledges Gil’s order and leaves the room. 

Gil keeps looking down at him and it's helping to keep the panic at bay. The panic that seeing that body brought him. A body that looks exactly like one of his father's victims. But his father is safely in prison and has been for twenty years. Malcolm hasn't seen him since that fateful night and has no plans to ever see him again, except when his subconsciousness brings forth the memories of what Dr. Martin Whitly did to him all those years ago. Before Lieutenant Arroyo arrested the Angelmaker for good, and saved Malcolm. 

Malcolm takes a deep breath. "I think I'm alright now, Gil. Thank you." 

Gil raises an eyebrow. "Are you sure kid?"

He nods and Gil runs the hand that was in his hair down to the back of his neck and squeezes before he releases his hold and steps back, but keeps a hand on his shoulder. 

"I know this isn't what either of us expected to see, but I have a job to do. Do you think you'll be alright?" 

Malcolm nods again. "It was just a shock. Someone needs to check the prison."

Gil looks around them to make sure they are alone. The medical examiner had left during his panic attack and hasn't returned yet. 

"Have you talked to him?" 

Malcolm shakes his head. "No. Never. He used to try and contact me, but not in years."

There was a knock at the door jamb and they both turn to look and see the return of the medical examiner. "Lieutenant Arroyo. Is everything ok?" 

"Yes, Edrisa. Just give us a moment and then your team can come take the body." She nods and slips back out the door leaving them alone again. 

Gil squeezes Malcolm's shoulder once more before letting go. "Do you want to take a taxi back to your loft?" 

"I need to know if he was somehow involved in this. I can help, Gil. I've got it… more or less under control now."

Gil sighs. "Alright. But I need you to stay out of the way of the body. Go find somewhere out of the way to just sit. And don't touch anything. Please." 

"I won't! I promise." 

As Malcolm leaves the room, he hears a soft tweet that grabs his attention. He follows the sound to its source and finds an empty room that must have been the victim's study. None of the officers are in here. There is a computer and one wall is full of bookshelves.

But in the middle of the room is a bird cage with a small green parakeet. "Oh! Well hello there, beautiful." He looks at a little engraved placard at the bottom of the cage. "Sunshine, huh? What a fitting name for a lovely lady."

She looks well cared for, and healthy, even if her cage is far too small for her without adequate enrichment options to occupy her time. He wonders what will happen to Sunshine now that her owner is no longer around to care for her. He feels a pang of sadness for his new feathered friend. Though Malcolm is not fully a bird, he is neither fully a human in his mind, no matter what Gil has always told him. He feels a connection with every bird he comes across, rescue or otherwise.

Malcolm isn't sure how much time passes before Gil comes to fetch him, having done a decent job of distracting himself by talking to the parakeet and receiving the occasional tweet in reply. 

"Do you actually understand what it's saying?"

He glances at Gil out of the corner of his eye, his mouth crooking up. 

"It's not about words, Gil. It's about the intent and feelings. We have an understanding."

"Can your little bird friend tell me who killed our vic?" 

Malcolm sighs. "It's not like that. She knows he's gone. And she's sad."

Malcolm turns to fully face Gil, seeing just how exhausted he looks. They must have been here for a while. "You didn't get in trouble for bringing me, did you?"

Without answering, Gil just envelopes Malcolm in a hug. "I'm the boss here, bird boy. I'm not in trouble with anyone." He releases Malcolm after a quick comforting squeeze to the back of his neck. "Are you doing better?"

Malcolm nods before glancing at his new acquaintance. "What's going to happen to her?"

"We'll have to check if Tommins has any next of kin who might be able to take her."

"And if that falls through?" 

Gil sighs. "Then I don't know."

Malcolm perks up. "I have a suggestion." 

"And what would that be kid?" Gil raises an eyebrow at Malcolm's enthusiasm. 

"You happen to be in the company of a veterinarian that is employed at a bird rescue. We could take her in if she has no where else to go." 

"You work at a _wild_ bird rescue. This is a parakeet." 

"Sure. But they like me a lot. And it wouldn't be the first time we have taken in pets that have gotten loose. And we take care of more than just birds." Malcolm looks at Gil with pleading eyes. 

Gil sighs yet again. He is so weak to those blue eyes and this boy. "Fine. But I make no promises. All I can do is bring it up as an option. And that's only if he has no relatives willing to take in a bird. Come on Malcolm, the detectives are going to finish up. I think it's time I take you home." 

Truth be told, Malcolm hadn't fully recovered from seeing the body. And it's not like he hadn't seen this sort of thing before. But he truly was not expecting to be taken back to when his father would carry out such heinous experiments. Trying to replicate the successful results of his own _children._

Malcolm tries to smile at Gil, but he knows it's a bit shaky. "Promise me something Gil." 

Gil gives him a nod, waiting. 

"Don't keep any secrets about this from me. I know you want to protect me, but I can handle it. Promise me, Gil." 

Blue eyes meet brown. 

"I promise."


	5. Chapter 4

"I'm evolving you Malcolm."

Malcolm is standing, unable to move. 

"I'm evolving you and your sister both." 

Dr. Martin Whitly circles around Malcolm, but he cannot follow his father with more than his eyes. 

Ainsley? Where is she? 

"You two will be the beginning of a new species. Superior in every way. I will elevate you above humanity, my boy."

His father walks away from him, keeping within his line of sight. He stops in front of a specialized surgical table, the small form of his sister strapped face down to it. 

"You will be the dawn of a new era. Of homo volucris."

Malcolm wants to scream. But his mouth will not open. And his feet will not move him towards his sister. 

He has to get to her!

His father glaces at Malcolm. "Are you watching?" The scientist picks up a large metal syringe from a tray of surgical instruments and pulls back the opening of his sister's hospital gown before he starts to inject Ainsley in her spine. 

**_NO!!!_ **

His father turns to pick up another syringe, but doesn't get the chance to inject her with it before something happens. 

Ainsley lets out a piercing cry as two bony protrusions force their way from her back, a mockery of wings. 

No. 

_This isn't what happened._

Ainsley had the beautiful wings of a hummingbird. She wasn't this abomination. She wasn't one of the Angelmaker's victims. 

_This isn't what happened._

But he can't move!

He looks behind himself, expecting to see his full wingspan, only to see a mirror copy to what he just saw on Ainsley, to the Angelmaker's other victims. 

**_This isn't what happened!_ **

Malcolm screams sitting straight up in bed, panting heavily. 

Fuck. This was a bad one. He drags a hand down his face, trying to catch his breath. 

Nightmares about his father used to happen infrequently, and now this is the fourth night in a row. Malcolm is _exhausted._

It's all because of the crime scene he tagged along with Gil to. And now it's going to haunt his dreams until whoever is responsible gets caught. 

Malcolm's phone on the bedside table starts ringing. Maybe it's Gil with an update! 

He checks the display and sighs in disappointment. He had been expecting this call for a week. 

"I hope I didn't wake you, dear. I know it's your day off." 

"Good morning, Mother. To what do I owe the pleasure this morning?" He hopes that whatever she called him for won't take long. He's feeling pretty rattled after the other day and the nightmare he had just woken up from. 

"Well, Malcolm, I recently received some news and I wanted to go over it with my lawyers before I finally told you about it." He can tell his mother has a nervous energy about her, even over the phone. Is she excited or stressed about this news?

"What did you need the lawyers involved for?"

"I needed to check with the state. Because it's about your father."

Malcolm's heart stops dead in his chest. The murder and his nightmare slam back to him full force.

"Malcolm, honey?"

He swallows and does his best to not let any of that get across to her. "What about him?" 

"His attorney said that he has decided against any further appeals of his case! Now I don't have to fight so hard to keep him where he belongs."

Malcolm lets out a sigh of relief. 

"That's good news, Mother. I'm relieved." 

Is he relieved? His father might now become less of a problem in his life, but now there is a new threat that is exactly like his father. 

"Now Malcolm, tell me about how you're doing. Why don't you get a pet, darling? Aren't you lonely in that loft all by yourself?"

Perhaps due to his pent up stress, Malcolm snaps at his mother.

"Do you really see me with a pet? What kind of pet would suit me? A fish I might eat if I get snacky. A bird, well, I know what it's like being a caged bird. I couldn't do that. A cat?" Malcolm scoffs. "I might as well just go change and then hop around in the middle of a road and invite death. The result will be the same."

"Stop being so melodramatic, darling. You're a veterinarian. You handle animals every single day. Now. Tell me. What's really bothering you."

Jessica switches into full mom mode after picking up on her son's anxieties. After Martin's arrest, she had done her best to raise her two children with their unique abilities. Though she was also a victim of her husband, she carried a hefty ton of guilt. Her husband didn’t experiment on her, but he did drug her while he experimented on their children. She battles with lifelong guilt that she carries, thinking that she could have stopped Martin from his task no matter what her children or Gil told her over the years. 

Though Gil had managed to keep his promise to Malcolm about hiding their secret, there had been a trial. During the trial, prosecution presented evidence to the court proving that Dr. Martin Whitly drugged Jessica. The prosecution assumed that Martin drugged his wife to carry out his murders instead of inflicting volatile experiments on his own children.

Only the Whitly family and Lieutenant Arroyo knew the truth. Gil has been protecting him and his family for twenty years, without ever asking for anything in return. 

Malcolm rubs his hand across his breastbone, the warm feeling returning in his chest. Thinking about Gil helps to calm his current anxieties.

"Mother…" He should tell her about the body he saw with Gil, the one that looked exactly like one of his father's victims. But… he couldn't do that to his mother. 

"Yes, dear?"

He can't tell her. So he comes up with something else instead. 

"Would you like to meet for lunch this week?"

"Of course, Malcolm! You know I love having you over. Let me know the day and time and I'll have everything prepared. Don't you worry about a thing, darling! Now, why don't you tell me how work is going?"

They chat for a while longer and arrange to meet for lunch on his next day off. 

Jessica talks his ear off about her various charities for the remainder of the call. Normally, he is much more interested in her charitable work, but currently he is just so _exhausted_ that he is thankful when she finally wishes him a good day and hangs up. 

Malcolm just flops back onto his bed and closes his eyes. 

Fuck this. He is _so tired._

Malcolm continues to have nightly nightmares involving his father's experiments on him. But unfortunately, he does not have the luxury to do more than lock it away in his subconsciousness.

His lunch with his mother was a nice reprieve from everything, and he manages to keep up appearances despite everything. 

It's about a week later and he is at work making his morning rounds doing his best to just stick to his routine. Gil hasn't called him with any updates, other than to see how he's holding up. 

Malcolm is in one of the back rooms tending to the common grackle with the broken wing when Marcus walks in. 

"Yo, Dr. B you're looking rough this week. Not sleeping much?"

He glances up at the intern before returning to his work. "No, I'm afraid not." Malcolm stokes a gentle finger across the grackle’s wing checking the healing process. She should be ready to release in another week. He smiles, pleased. Nothing makes Malcolm happier than returning these beautiful creatures back to the wild, where they are meant to be, flying free.

One last quick check on the common grackle's water in her temporary housing before Malcolm returns her and secures the door on her cage. 

"I want you to be in charge for her next check in. Make sure to log any changes on her chart. Ok, Marcus?"

"Yah, sure, Dr. B. Actually, I came to find you. You have a visitor." 

A visitor? 

Malcolm perks up. "Who is it?" 

"Some old guy. Says he knows you. He's just chatting with Tiffany right now."

"I'll be out in a minute. Just let me wash my hands." 

"Sure thing." 

Malcolm is still drying his hands on a paper towel when he walks into the lobby of Wild Bird Fund and is pleasantly surprised to see- 

"Gil?" 

Malcolm cannot help but smile when he sees him again. It had been over a week since he had seen the other man and just the sight of him again melts the sleepless nights and nightmares from his mind. His body feels warm from the inside out, and if he had his wings out he knows they would be fluttering behind him, expressively. 

He absolutely cannot keep the happiness he feels at seeing Gil from his face. 

He's a little embarrassed at himself, at how breathless he sounds talking to the other man. "Gil. What are you doing here? Can I help with something?" 

It's only then that he notices the small cage sitting on the receptionist's desk, containing one small green parakeet. 

"I brought you a visitor."

"Really? I can look after her?" 

At Gil's nod, Malcolm doesn't even care about the onlookers in the room. He rushes around the desk and throws himself at Gil, catching him in a tight hug which is immediately returned. Just his scent and his presence is doing wonders to calm his current anxieties. 

He can feel Gil give him another tight squeeze before pulling back, but he doesn't go far. 

"Tommins had an aunt and a cousin, but they didn't want a bird. So, Sunshine officially joins your flock."

It's impressive how such a simple statement brightens his entire outlook on life currently. 

"Thank you, Gil."

Gil gives the back of his neck a comforting squeeze. "I can't stay long. I just wanted to drop her off before getting back to the precinct. Sorry, I haven't had time to fill you in. I've got some stuff later, but maybe this weekend?"

Malcolm smiles and nods. "That sounds wonderful. I promised Ainsley a visit tonight anyway. Thanks again, Gil."

The older man starts to leave before looking over his shoulder at Malcolm one last time before leaving WBF. "Anytime, kid."

He is still watching Gil walk to the Le Mans parked down the street when the sudden clearing of a throat behind him reminds Malcolm that it wasn't only just him and Gil in the room during their exchange. He turns to see Tiffany and Marcus both giving him a mixture of smug and fond expressions.

"What?" 

Tiffany shares a look with Marcus before answering Malcolm. "When were you going to tell us that you were dating an older man, Dr. Bright?"

Say what?

"I.. we.. it's not like that."

Marcus raises an eyebrow. "Dr. B, I have never seen you so happy to see a person, or even an animal, in all my time knowing you. Even if I haven't been here that long."

"But.. we aren't like that."

Tiffany smirks. "Are you sure about that?"

Malcolm thinks back to their recent interactions, and how comfortable he feels with Gil, how safe and loved he feels when he is in the other man's company. The way his eyes crinkle up at the corners when he smiles, how gentle he is when grooming his wings. 

Malcolm raises a hand to rub at his chest, that comforting warmth behind his breastbone a constant companion these days. 

_Oh god._

_How did he never notice before?_

"I'm in love with Gil?!"


	6. Chapter 5

After the first body had been discovered, Gil had called Rikers to check that first and foremost Martin Whitly was exactly where he was supposed to be. 

Thankfully, he was.

Tommins’s body was too similar to the Angelmaker's victims, and the autopsy had proven that as well. 

It took over a week to secure an interview with the infamous Angelmaker, which was delaying Gil's entire investigation. 

He wasn't going to tell Malcolm that he planned to meet with his father until after the interview took place. He could tell Malcolm was already stressed out enough as it was, and Gil absolutely did not want to add to it. 

A prison guard led a chained Martin Whitly to the plastic chair in front of the divided table. He looked much the same as he had two decades prior, if only much more grey. 

Gil and Dr. Whitly both reach and pick up the phone that will allow them to communicate for this interview. 

"Lieutenant Arroyo. What a surprise.. I haven't seen you in.. oh what has it been…?" Dr. Whitly pretends to look thoughtful before perking up and leaning towards the plexiglass divider, giving Gil a predatory grin. "Oh, I'd say it's been twenty years." 

"Mr. Whitly."

"Please, Lieutenant, even if I'm in prison and no longer conduct experiments, let's not be _rude._ " 

It takes every ounce of Gil's force of will to not visibly clench his jaw in frustration. 

He starts again. " _Dr._ Whitly."

The man behind the plexiglass divider smiles. "There, that's much better. That wasn't so hard, now was it?" 

"I need to talk to you about a recent murder and if you have given anyone your formulas for experimentation." Gil is not here for pleasantries. 

"I don't know if you've heard the news, but I am not seeking any further appeals." The man laughs, but Gil cannot tell if it is joyful or sinister. "So I plan to stay here for the long haul."

"Did you have any associates when you were conducting your experiments?" Gil does not have the patience for this man. 

"What makes you think I had any associates? I've been locked up for twenty years Lieutenant. Wouldn't I have given them up by now if that were the case?" The other man raises an eyebrow at Gil. "Use your brain."

This interview is getting him absolutely nothing to help his case. 

"I did hear something though." 

That piques his interest. "What did you hear?"

"Nuh uh, Lieutenant. First, I want to know how my family is doing. My wife. What is she up to these days?"

" _Ex_ wife." 

The other man snarls at him through the plexiglass divider. "Don't tell me you have an interest in _my_ Jessica."

"Even if I had any interest in her, I barely see her,” says Gil truthfully. He sees Malcolm's mother a few times a year, and almost never without the man himself. 

That seems to calm the rattled prisoner some. 

"My children?" 

Gil doesn't want to give this man any information on Malcolm or Ainsley. Hopefully, he will accept the bare minimum. 

"Malcolm is fine. Your daughter, I hardly see." 

Something that he says or how he says it catches Dr. Whitly's attention because he leans forward with a predator's look in his eye. "You said 'Malcolm is fine.' So, you see him? Often?"

"I told you he was fine. Now tell me what you know, Dr. Whitly." 

"No no no. There's something more there, Lieutenant Arroyo. I can see it in your face." 

"There is nothing in my face. Stop reaching." Something about the way this man was talking to him raises the hairs on the back of Gil’s neck. 

"You called him by name, instead of just calling him my son. Your eyes softened… You were thinking about him.. What is he to you?"

This isn't anything he needs to be thinking about right now. Especially not with the man's father on the other side of a plexiglass divider at Rikers in an orange prison jumpsuit.

"Tell me what you know, Dr. Whitly." This time Gil cannot hold back from gritting his teeth visibly. The other man successfully got under his skin. 

"I will say this. You might want to keep a, shall we say, _birds eye_ out for something shiny."

Gil grips the phone harder in his hand. "What do you mean?" 

Dr. Whitly shrugs. "I don't know much about it. But I have heard things. Prison is worse than high school when it comes to rumors, Lieutenant Arroyo." 

Dr. Martin Whitly hangs up his phone on the receiver and motions for the guard that he is done with the interview. He gets up and walks away, chains clanking silently from Gil's perspective. 

It had taken a week to arrange this interview because of how high risk the prisoner had been. But with the change in his appeals status the interview had finally been granted. And Gil had gotten almost _nothing_ to help his investigation. 

Gil sighs and hangs up his own phone on the receiver. 

_Something shiny…_

Dr. Tanaka had found a small metal arrowhead embedded in the back of their victim's calf. The shaft had been snapped off. But that was their only clue, the only thing that was different from the original Angelmaker victims. 

Gil rubs a hand down his face in exhaustion, momentarily grooming his goatee. This whole situation is just getting more complicated by the second. 

He has to tell Malcolm about the meeting. 

_Malcolm…_

Gil groans and buries his face in both of his hands, thankful that there aren't any guards standing watch on his side, and that he is without an audience. 

How was Dr. Whitly able to tell how much he cares about Malcolm just from his face? In recent years, Gil tries so hard to keep his deeper feelings for Malcolm all at bay. But no matter what, Gil will protect Malcolm with his life, as he has done for the last twenty years. 

Malcolm's happiness and safety come before everything else. 

Gil sighs and stands up, leaving the interview room. He picks up his service gun at security and he makes his way to the Le Mans where he is lost in thought. 

Sitting in the Le Mans, Gil reaches up to gently stroke a finger down the decorated feather hanging from the rear view mirror. The beads glisten in the dying light of the setting sun.

Gil smiles at the lovely decoration. Malcolm's feathers are as beautiful as the man himself. 

Anytime when Malcolm has his wings out and Gil has a chance to touch his luxuriously soft feathers? 

Gil represses a shiver. It's so intimate. That Malcolm continues to trust him with his secret, with his wings, with his other form. 

Gil will never let him down. No matter what. 

Gil kisses the tips of his index and middle fingers and gently touches them to the black feather charm of his beloved before he starts the Le Mans for the drive back to the precinct. He has some paperwork that he needs to finish before he can head home. And hopefully he will see Malcolm this weekend. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So that is what I imagine the feather that hangs from the rearview of the Le Mans to look like. I made it like back in August when I got too creative writing this. I now have an entire box of feathers and couldn't be happier.


	7. Chapter 6

Malcolm grabs a taxi over to the Brooklyn Botanical Gardens once his shift is over. He had gotten Sunshine settled in an empty corner of one of the small bird rooms until he can set up a more comfortable living situation for her. She passed her initial veterinary examination and she seemed in much better spirits than the last time Malcolm had seen her, so hopefully she will be fine at WBF for the time being. 

Malcolm barely makes it through the rest of his shift with a clear head after his realization earlier. 

Him. 

_In love._

With Gil.

How did he not notice it? 

How long has he been in love with him? Surely, this didn't happen overnight. But it's hard to say when it actually happened. 

When did things change? 

Malcolm cannot say. Anytime he thinks about Gil, he knows his feelings are true. 

Malcolm is in love with Gil. He can't stop smiling during the entire drive to the Gardens. He cannot be bothered even if his taxi driver keeps giving him weird looks in the rearview mirror. 

He pays the driver. Then he trots along the entrance to the Brooklyn Botanical Gardens, feeling lighter than he has in weeks and ready to spend some time with his sister. 

Ainsley meets him at the door. 

"What's got you so happy?" Ainsley throws her arms around her brother in a hug. 

"I just realized I'm in love." 

She pulls back to look him in the eye. "No shit?" 

Malcolm laughs. "I know, it's hard to believe. I am still trying to wrap my head around it."

"Well, come on Malcolm, don't leave me hanging. Who is it? Do I know them?" 

His incredible euphoria is now tempered by the worry that she might not approve of his choice. The smile slips from his face ever so slightly. But this is his baby sister, who has been through everything he has. Of course she would be fine with his choice in mate.

He releases Ainsley from their hug before holding his sister's hands to ground himself for this confession.

"It's… it's Gil." He watches Ainsley's face to see her reaction. At first, the most she does is blink. 

"Gil Arroyo? The police officer who arrested our father? Who I know you still see from time to time? _That_ Gil?" 

Malcolm nods, not quite able to form words. Is she happy for him or surprised at his admission? Her reaction is not giving away any of her actual feelings on the matter. 

"Have you been courting him?" 

"Have I been.. courting him..?" he repeats.

She draws one of her hands away from his and taps her palm to his cheek. "Come on, Malcolm. You're not usually this slow. Have you been courting him?" 

Malcolm thinks back on his past interactions with Gil. He thinks about how he shows off his wings for the other man. 

How many years has Malcolm been giving Gil trinkets and small gifts that caught his attention? Gil never once considers them to be weird or out of place. Instead, he accepts the offering with a smile, and thanks Malcolm for the gift. Gil even has a few shelves in his bedroom dedicated to every gift which Malcolm has ever given him. 

"I think maybe I have been for a while and just haven't realized it." Malcolm laughs slightly. How embarrassing! 

The gentle tap to his cheek becomes a firm cuff to the back of his head. "Are you seriously that oblivious?" Ainsley huffs in exasperation, though Malcolm can tell she means no ill will by it. 

"Come on. I want to show you the flowers." 

Malcolm could tell she was vibrating with excitement. Flowers were her favorite thing, after all. 

"Are there any new ones from the last time I was here?" asks Malcolm.

Ainsley grabs his hand and pulls him into the Eastern Parkway Entrance of the Brooklyn Botanic Garden. The walls of the Eastern Parkway Entrance are patterned with leaves creating a decorative entryway, welcoming its many visitors onto the luscious grounds of the garden nearly every day of the year. In one more hour, the gardens close to the public. Ainsley flashes her badge at the ticket booth and an employee waves them in. 

They spend the next hour and a half strolling the grounds together and catching up. Ainsley has special permissions to stay past closing as an employee. Many of the other workers wave at her and Malcolm as they clock out for the evening. Ainsley is truly in her element among the luscious flora, flitting about here and there, always in motion, unable to stop herself from smelling the more fragrant blooms which they pass by. 

Anytime when Malcolm visits Ainsley's apartment, he is amazed at the variety of plants and flowers she keeps thriving year round with the loving attention she bestows upon them. Cut flowers in vases are continuously refreshed. A career in a botanical garden seemed inevitable given her other form, and she has blossomed. 

Malcolm leans down to smell an azalea bush as they walk through the Japanese Hill and Pond Garden together. He might not have the same affinity for flowers as his hummingbird sister, but he can appreciate the fragrance of their blooms. 

A glimmer of gold catches his eye from under the bush in the dying light of the spring sun. 

Huh? 

Malcolm crouches down to pick up a cat figurine laying in the dirt. 

Ainsley comes up behind him. "Whatcha got there, you old crow?" 

Malcolm brushes the dirt off of the figure. It's a pink Maneki neko holding a golden coin, one paw raised in greeting. The colour signifies romance and relationships versus wealth or general luck. "It's a lucky cat figure. Someone must have lost it. Do you sell these in the gift shop?" He shows it off to her. 

"Hmm, I'm not sure. I don't really spend much time in the shop since I work the grounds. But it doesn't look like it's worth too much." 

Malcolm takes a closer look at the cat figurine and smiles. "I think I'll give it to Gil." 

Ainsley shoulder checks him. "What did I say? Courting."

He snorts. "I know, I know." He slides it into the pocket of his scrubs, keeping it safe in the meantime. "Has everyone left yet?"

Ainsley checks the time on her cell phone. "We should be good. It's nearly an hour past closing. Security has already finished their final rounds for stragglers. And I've got their rounds memorized. Let's get to our tree." 

They continue to walk down the path to a secluded corner of the gardens where they like to go and know they won't be disturbed for their evening flight. 

Ainsley takes off her t-shirt, leaving herself in a tank top to make the transformation easier. Malcolm can see part of her tattoo through the straps of her shirt. Her design is much lighter than his, more delicate, shimmering a soft pearlescent. But that is probably because her feathers are white whereas his are black. 

"Alright, you first Ains." 

He watches her shrink down into her pile of clothes and then helpfully untangles her from the strap of her shirt. Malcolm smiles at his sister, now a beautiful leucistic ruby throated hummingbird hovering in front of his face, barely a few inches in length. Her white feathers glint in the last rays of the sun. "Alright. Go on. I'll catch up." She gives a small motion of her head that is best interpreted to be a nod in her current form and zooms off to inspect the nearest bunch of colourful flowers.

Malcolm collects her clothing and moves it more out of the way and then strips off his top to toss onto the pile before his own transformation. 

Without a shirt to hinder his larger avian body, he is able to free himself from his pants much more easily than his sister. There isn't much he can do for his shoes, but he tries to hide his pants in the foliage as much as possible in case someone happens to walk the trails that they cannot account for.

Just as he's about done with his task, a flash of white zooms around him, and he lets out a surprised "caw!" 

Ainsley hovers in front of his face, only one seventh his size, and he can tell that she is amused by how much she startled him.

Though both of their species are typically diurnal, neither of them are either fully avian, or fully human, and as such are not bound by the laws of nature in either realm. They restrict their flights to the evening and out of the way of populated places, doing their best to avoid any birders. Ainsley tends to attract attention with her rare leucistic colouring. Any birder observing Malcolm as a crow would take peculiar interest in his strikingly blue eyes. 

Ainsley takes off, zipping and zooming away, inspecting flowers here and there to her heart's content. Malcolm knows just how much these flights together mean to her, even if she doesn't say as much in words. 

They fly through the Tree Peony collection where hundreds of peonies in multiple colours are in bloom on the edge of the Japanese Hill and Pond Garden. Then they wind their way between the trees of the Cherry Esplanade. The beautiful cherry blossom petals are already beginning to dot the landscape. They reach Bluebell Wood when Malcolm comes to rest on the branch of a tree. Meanwhile, his sister darts through the blooms, covering a huge portion of the grounds around them. 

The gardens are so peaceful, especially when it is just the two of them here. 

Malcolm only wishes his mate could experience this with him. 

Once Ainsley has satisfied herself with the bluebells, they fly over to the Shakespeare Garden. Malcolm sets down near a stone bench and pecks at the beginning of an under ripe strawberry. It will be a nice snack in a few months.

Malcolm is unsure how long they have been flying around the garden but soon Ainsley starts to lead him back towards where they have left their belongings. Ainsley actually keeps to a somewhat regular sleep schedule, unlike her chronic insomniac brother. She must be getting tired. 

She transforms back first and redresses by their tree before Malcolm does the same. He pats his pocket to make sure the maneki neko figurine is still where he left it, and smiles. 

Ainsley catches his action and smirks at her brother. "So when can I expect an invitation to the wedding?" 

Malcolm snorts. "It's not that simple, Ains."

They start to walk back to the entrance of the gardens and she shoulder checks him. "Well, then. Make it simple." Ainsley walks in front of him and puts her hands over her heart. "Gil Arroyo, I would like to officially court you. Please do me the honor of becoming my mate." She bats her eyes up at him. "Simple, right?"

They start walking down the path again.

Malcolm sighs. "He's known me since I was a child. He probably doesn't even think about me like that." 

They walk the rest of the way in silent companionship. Ainsley locks the gates behind them as they leave. 

Even though it is getting late, Malcolm has no trouble hailing them both a taxi. Before she gets out at her stop, she leans over and gives him a quick hug. Then she pulls back, looking him in the eye. "Hey, Mal. About Gil. You will never know unless you talk to him about it. And I think it's worth the risk. He wouldn't drop you from his life over this." 

Malcolm gives his sister a smile. "Thanks, Ainsley." 

She shuts the door of the cab behind her. He has the driver wait until he can see her safely into her building before he continues the drive to his loft, lost in his thoughts for the rest of the way home.


	8. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter. Fucking. 7. 
> 
> My biggest god damn nightmare.

Though he didn't get a chance to talk to or to see Gil for the next several days, Malcolm couldn't get his sister's words of encouragement out of his head.

Nor could he escape the teasing from his coworkers who wouldn't believe him when he said that Gil wasn't his boyfriend. No matter how much he wished it were the truth. 

Sunshine the parakeet was fitting in nicely at the rescue, even though she was the only pet parakeet at the Wild Bird Fund. The arrangement was only temporary.

Malcolm planned to relocate his small friend to his loft and adopt her as another Whitly bird, despite telling his mother that he had absolutely no plans in getting a pet. Malcolm found himself utterly smitten with the small parakeet in their short acquaintance. He would upgrade her cage first before bringing her home. The cage she was found in was much too small for a bird like her, and she needed more enrichment.

He still carried the pink maneki neko in his pocket, prepared for when he would see Gil next. 

By Friday evening, Malcolm was desperately hopeful when he closed down the Wild Bird Fund after his shift. If only Gil were standing outside, waiting for him, leaning against the Le Mans just like he had been only a few weeks ago. 

The birds and other miscellaneous animals are quiet for the evening when Malcolm walks around and does his final rounds, giving one last check on all of his patients. When it's finally time to clock out and leave, Malcolm is disappointed to find the street void of a certain shiny black sports car and lacking the one person for whom his heart yearns.

He scans up and down the street to double check that Gil isn't just further down. But he sees neither hide nor hair of the man he wants to claim as his mate. Malcolm's shoulders slump in disappointment. 

He crosses his fingers when he feels his phone vibrating in his pocket and he quickly pulls it out.

"Yes!" He cannot contain the dopey smile on his face as he checks the screen. He attempts to get himself under control real quick before answering the call. 

"Hey, Gil. What's up?"

"You just get out of work?" 

Malcolm nods real quick before realizing he needs to verbally answer Gil, so lost in hearing his voice again. "Yes. I'm off tomorrow, too."

"Good. You hungry? I'll pick up something and come get you. Stay there." 

Gil hangs up and Malcolm cannot help his excitement. He hopes they'll be able to spend the evening together, like they usually do.

Though Malcolm can hardly stand still through the nervous energy he feels, he does his best to wait right here as requested. 

Fortunately, Gil doesn't leave Malcolm to wait for long and rolls up in front of him after another 15 minutes. He leans over the console to open the door from the inside for the young man standing on the curb.

"Going my way?" Gil cracks a smile and Malcolm's chest is filled with unbelievable warmth and contentment. 

Malcolm smiles softly before sliding in the car and shutting the door behind him. "As a matter of fact, I am." Malcolm relaxes back into the supple leather seats of the Le Mans and the scent of Gil next to him. He closes his eyes, more at peace than he has been in days. 

It takes a few minutes for Malcolm to realize that they are headed towards his loft and not Gil's house, like they usually do for their excursions. More often than not. 

Gil surprises him and grips the back of his neck, rubbing at tense muscles, which instantly release. "I can feel your anxiety from here, kid. Don't worry. I know it's been a rough few weeks for you. But don't worry, Malcolm. It's all going to be ok in the end." 

Malcolm could truly believe in Gil's confident words and calming touch. He looks over at Gil and smiles.

How could he never realize just how in love with the man he is?

Malcolm spends the rest of the ride in silence, lost in his own thoughts.

When they finally reach the loft, Gil hands him a few bags from a smoothie and wrap bar which Malcolm likes. Weird. This isn't what Gil would normally get for the both of them. 

Malcolm looks up at the other man, curious, but he has his back turned leading the way to the entrance door.

Once they are finally ensconced in the loft with the food placed on the island, Malcolm's anxiety finally gets the better of him. 

Malcolm corners Gil up against the counter, blocking him in, and not giving him an escape.

"I can tell there's something going on, Gil. Please stop hiding it. Please tell me. You promised." Malcolm makes sure to look up into Gil's eyes, needing to see what it is.

Gil sighs and rests his hands on the younger man's arms. "I wasn't going to hide anything from you. But why don't we sit down and eat first, ok?"

Malcolm walks around Gil and hops up on the counter to sit. 

Gil narrows his eyes at Malcolm. "You know damn well I meant the couch." 

Malcolm shrugs. "I like it up here." 

Gil waves a hand. "Right. Bird boy likes to be up high." 

Malcolm grabs Gil's hand from the air and holds onto it, squeezing it once. "I'm not going to eat until you tell me what's going on, Gil."

Gil takes a deep breath and stands in front of Malcolm, but doesn't remove his hand from the young man's grasp. 

"Malcolm. There's no easy way to tell you this. I.. saw your father. Last week." Gil closes his eyes for a moment. "I had to go talk to him about the copycat murders." 

That caught Malcolm's attention immediately. "My father? Gil. He nearly killed you the last time you saw him." Malcolm subconsciously squeezes the hand he's holding. He will never forget the night when Gil came to his house and saved him from his father.

"I had to talk to him. For the case. And there was no way he would talk to any of my detectives. It had to be me." 

"Why didn't you tell me ahead of time?" demands Malcolm, sounding upset. 

Gil looks up into Malcolm's blue eyes, but sees that Malcolm appears anxious on his behalf.

"Because I didn't want to worry you, Malcolm."

"Did he tell you anything important? Anything that can help the case?" Malcolm is just eager for this to be _over._ For his life to go back to some semblance of normal. 

Well, normal for him. 

And he will never have a normal life. 

"He gave some cryptic clues… a few other snide remarks about a few things. Nothing truly helpful. It was a waste of time,” admits Gil. He tries pulling his hand out from Malcolm's to gain some distance between them. 

"Gil?" 

"It's nothing, Malcolm. Don't worry. It's been a long week. How about you finally eat?" He tries to change the subject, and now Malcolm wonders just what happened between Gil and his father. 

"Gil, please.. What's wrong?"

Gil turns his back on Malcolm, giving a little laugh. But the sound was all wrong.

"There's nothing wrong Malcolm." Gil tosses a smile over his shoulder at the small man perched on the island counter, but he fails and looks away.

There was something there. Something that Malcolm couldn't immediately soothe which made his chest ache. He brings a hand up to alleviate the discomfort in his chest, rubbing at his sternum gently.

No matter what might be bothering the other man, it's ok. Even if he is not ready to talk about it, Malcolm is fine with how things are.

As long as Gil is near him, everything will be alright.

With that realization, his anxiety dissipates and he smiles at the back of the man, content.

He remembers something. 

"Gil?" 

The other man doesn't appear to acknowledge him, so Malcolm hops off the counter.

He tries again, a few steps closer. 

"Gil." 

Malcolm lays a hand on his shoulder, and almost whines. "Please look at me." 

Gil turns around finally and they meet eyes. Malcolm stifles a gasp from the unfiltered and raw emotion which Gil isn't bothering to conceal within.

"I found something for you. Would you like it?" 

Gil can only nod. 

Malcolm reaches into the pocket which has been holding the maneki neko charm since flying with his sister at the Brooklyn Botanic Gardens. When he places the charm onto Gil's outstretched palm, Gil gently grasps it and immediately brings it to his face for closer perusal. 

"I've seen things like these in shop windows at ChinaTown. What is it?" 

Though Malcolm has been managing his low level anxiety this entire evening, he is completely nervous, hoping that Gil doesn't catch on.

"It's called a maneki neko. Beckoning cat in Japanese. It's a good luck charm." 

"Every gift you give to me is a good luck charm, Malcolm." Gil's voice is so soft, and Malcolm can hear just how much he means the words. 

That makes him smile, knowing just how much Gil treasures his little gifts.

"So where did you find this one, my little corvid?" He holds up the little cat statue between them. 

"When I was with Ainsley the other day. I found it at the BBG before we had our flight."

"Correct me if I'm wrong Malcolm, but the colours usually mean different things. What does this pink cat mean?" 

Malcolm thinks about his sister's advice.

_"Hey Mal. About Gil. You will never know unless you talk to him about it. And I think it's worth the risk. He wouldn't drop you from his life over this."_

Maybe this is the right moment. 

"Gil…" He takes a deep breath and stares into Gil's beautiful brown eyes.

"What's wrong?" Gil sets aside the little cat figurine and focuses his entire attention on Malcolm.

He shakes his head. "Nothing is wrong. But I need to tell you something."

Malcolm reaches out to grab one of Gil's hands, but he keeps his gaze to the ground, unable to meet the other man's eyes as he bares his soul. 

"Gil Arroyo. I am in love with you." He hears the other man inhale sharply so he hurries to continue. "I know this probably isn't anything you were probably ever expecting to ever hear from me, and you have probably never viewed me as anything other than maybe a close friend, but-" 

Malcolm's speech gets cut off when Gil grabs the back of Malcolm's head with his free hand and pulls him in for a kiss. 

Malcolm's eyes widen before fluttering closed as he melts into Gil’s touch. He grabs at Gil's sweater with his other hand.

He can feel Gil's tongue against his lips seeking entrance and he opens his mouth to deepen the kiss, moaning. 

Kissing Gil. 

_It felt like flying._

Gil pulls back, but stays close, rubbing the back of Malcolm's neck. 

"Malcolm. How long has this been for?" 

It is getting hard to concentrate with Gil so close, with his hand rubbing the sensitive skin at the back of his neck. And all he wants to do is kiss Gil again, to feel the scratch of the older man's goatee against his face, to taste him. 

He _needs_ it. 

Malcolm drops the hand he's holding, slowly releases Gil's sweater, and threads both of his hands into the other man's soft hair, staring into his eyes. 

He thinks Gil asked him a question. But it couldn't have been important, so he ignores it. 

Without any further hesitation, Malcolm drags Gil down into another kiss, hungry for it.

Gil drops his hand from Malcolm’s neck, suddenly grabs Malcolm’s hips, and pulls until they’re flush together, as though he couldn't bear to keep any distance between them any longer. 

The warmth in his chest feels as though it is spreading. He feels so warm. So wonderful.

"Is this alright?" When Malcolm breaks the kiss to pull back, Gil's hands keep him from going too far. 

It's everything he's ever wanted. 

Without another word, Malcolm strips off his scrub top, dropping it to the ground.

He watches as Gil removes his sweater, dropping it to the floor in the same manner before Gil reaches out to grab Malcolm's hand and pull him out of the kitchen.

Gil brings one of Malcolm’s hands up to his mouth, placing a kiss on his palm. "Every part of you is a gift." 

The way Gil is looking at him feels like worship, as Gil slowly moves around behind him.

Malcolm closes his eyes to focus on the way Gil trails his fingers gently up his arms; his lips following the path to his left shoulder. Malcolm holds still as his mate presses a kiss to the back of his neck, and he cannot repress a shiver.

He can feel the initial hesitancy in his movement, as Gil's fingers pause at the top of his tattoo, almost as if asking permission to touch.

"Please.." Malcolm nearly begs, voice barely above a whisper. 

"Thank you, Malcolm." Is whispered against the tops of the lines of the black feathers drawn into his skin. 

Gil traces each and every feather. From the tops of his shoulders down his back, not a vane is missed by his mate's careful touch. Even after these many years, the tattoos still shimmer almost unnaturally.

What could have destroyed his life, that which he did not choose for himself, Gil has helped him see the beauty in.

The way Gil is tracing his tattoos with love makes him feel beautiful. 

"Please. Take out your wings. I need to see them.. need to touch them. I need all of you, Malcolm."

Malcolm needs no further encouragement; doesn't even need to concentrate in the moment. He pulls away from Gil, turns to face him, and brings his wings out, spreading them to their full span—if for nothing more than to watch the look of reverence and love on his mate's face.

"You are so beautiful, Malcolm." 

While Gil stands and looks his fill, Malcolm does the same.

His mate's hair takes on an almost invisible iridescence in the low light of the loft; Gil’s tan skin invites him to touch. The hair on his chest is greying and all Malcolm wants to do is run his fingers through it.

Gil reaches out a hand and gently brushes his fingers against Malcolm's feathers. Malcolm steps closer to give him better access, to encourage his mate's exploration of the most intimate part of himself.

"Every time you allowed me to groom your wings, I felt privileged. That you would trust me with this. That you would trust me with _you._ It means more than you'll ever know, Malcolm." 

"How could I not? You've only ever protected me. I love you, Gil… you're my mate."

Gil surges forward to claim his lips and Malcolm moans, clinging to Gil's shoulders. He wraps his wings around them both.

"Fuck, Malcolm." Gil breaks the kiss, moaning. "I love you." 

He is a little nervous to try this, to even ask this, but something in him tells him that it is right.

"Gil? Can I try something?" 

"Anything you want."

It almost pains him to pull away when Gil is starting to kiss along his neck, and Malcolm doesn't think he has ever been so turned on in his life. 

"Malcolm?" Gil looks a little confused as Malcolm backs up to give himself some room. 

"I've never done this before. I've never had reason to. So. Just." 

Malcolm takes a deep breath to steady his racing heart, and bows his head to Gil, spreading his wings out, presenting. 

He hears Gil gasp quietly. "Are you…?"

"Gil Arroyo. I am neither fully human nor fully crow, but I know what I feel. And crows mate for life."

"Malcolm. I want you to look at me."

He raises his head up from his bow, but keeps his wings presented. 

Once he makes eye contact with Gil, he watches his mate's head dip in a bow, and he cannot help the fluttering in his wings at the sight.

"I've known you for twenty years, been in love with you for at least a few of those. I would have been remiss in my care of you if I hadn't done at least a little research into corvids, especially a crow like you, at some point over the years. I know that a crow bowing to their mate is as good as marriage."

Malcolm is fit to burst with love for this man. He closes the distance between them and lifts Gil's chin, pressing a kiss to his lips, stroking down his neck, finally allowing his fingers to brush through Gil's chest hair. His mate pulls him close, and he can feel how hard Gil is against his hip.

"This is more than I ever thought I would have." Malcolm cups his face and Gil turns to press a kiss to his palm. 

Malcolm sinks to his knees in front of his mate, folding his wings behind himself so as not to actually sit on his feathers, and looks up into Gil's eyes. 

"Oh, _fuck_ Malcolm." Gil sounds wrecked just watching him drop to his knees. 

He reaches up and rests his hands on Gil's belt, but waits for Gil to nod before he starts removing the belt from its loops, and then it's just the barrier of a button and the slow descent of a zipper before he removes Gil from his pants. Gil's ragged breathing fans the flames of his desire, and all he wants is to be claimed by his mate.

He smells so intoxicating, the weight of him in his hand, so soft. Malcolm rubs the pad of his thumb across the head, feeling the moisture already beading at the tip.

He feels a hand in his hair, not guiding, just carding through the strands of his hair and he looks up to meet Gil's eyes before leaning forward to take the head of Gil’s cock in his mouth. 

He can feel Gil holding himself back from thrusting into his mouth. He tries to take as much as he can, rubbing the thick vein underneath Gil’s cock, earning a low moan from his mate. He bobs his head a few times to get a feel for it. The experience is different than he could have ever imagined.

Malcolm grips the waistband of Gil's pants and tugs them the rest of the way off, pulling off his mate's cock with a pop. He presses his lips back to the head, sliding down the side to where his hand is holding the base, before moving back up again. 

"Jesus.. Malcolm. You look.." Malcolm looks up at his mate, leaning into the hand running through his hair. Gil is looking down at him with such open adoration, and he knows the exact emotions are mirrored on his face. 

He releases Gil, stands up, and stretches out his wings as soon as he is up, working out the kinks from having them awkwardly folded behind him.

Gil pulls him into another kiss, thrusting his tongue into Malcolm's mouth. Kissing shouldn't make him weak in the knees, but he wasn't kissing just anyone. 

He is kissing his mate.

Gil loosens the drawstrings of his scrub pants so that they fall off of his narrow hips, and he steps out of them. Gil rubs against the jut of Malcolm’s hip bone above the band of his underwear. The rough calluses of Gil’s fingers against Malcolm's soft skin lights every nerve on fire.

He has never _ached_ like this, craved anything like this. 

For more of his mate's hands on him, more of this, just _more._

He breaks the kiss, panting. Pushing against the hand just barely teasing at his hip, he whispers against his mate's lips. "Please." 

Gil’s fingers slide into the band of Malcolm’s underwear, pulling it down over his erection, divesting him of his final article of clothing.

Malcolm rubs his face against his mate's, almost overwhelmed. 

Everywhere which Gil's hands touch thrills him. Hands trail up his sides and over his chest to flick at his nipples, and he cannot hold back a gasp. His wings strike out.

"Oh? Are you sensitive?" 

"Maybe." 

"Hmm.." He whines when Gil takes his hands off of him and steps back, looking around for a minute before bending and grabbing something from underneath Malcolm's pants.

"What have you got… oh no." 

Gil straightens up, twirling a single long black feather in his fingers. "You leave these all over my house. I knew with you shaking your wings everywhere there was bound to be at least one around."

"And what do you plan to do with that?" 

Instead of offering an answer, he trails the feather across Malcolm's neck, and down his chest, flicking the tip against a nipple. "This."

"Gil! What!" He reaches out to grab onto his mate's body to keep standing, his entire frame trembling. When Gil drags the feather to his other nipple, he cannot stop from whimpering. The sensation goes straight to his cock. He knows he's leaking. Gil trails the feather down his abs, his muscles quivering.

"Gil.. I'm going to fall if you keep this up." 

Pulling back the feather, Gil leans in and kisses his neck. "I would make sure to catch you." 

"You always have."

Gil presses another quick kiss to Malcolm's lips before guiding him over to the end of the bed and easing him down to sit. Wings fanned out on either side of him, he stares up at Gil.

"You are absolutely beautiful, Malcolm."

Gil leans down to kiss him as he traces Malcolm's own feather up one thigh, over his hip, coming dangerously close to where he is most sensitive. 

"Gil.. please touch me. I can't take this much longer." Malcolm tries to thrust his hips up into the sensation, even though the tickling feather is near torturous. 

When Gil very gently drags the feather across the length of his cock, he nearly jumps out of his skin.

"Touch you like this?" 

Gil drags the feather over the head and back down the underside to his balls, back up and circling around again.

He knows he's starting to whine, and he is unable to sit still with such a teasing sensation. Gil finally takes pity on him and wraps a hand around his cock and pumps it a few times, rubbing his thumb across the head. 

"I need you, Gil. Please." He thrusts up into Gil’s hand.

"I need you just as much." He releases his hold on Malcolm and steps away, gesturing for Malcolm to move over.

Gil sits against the headboard before pulling Malcolm into his lap, both of them moaning at the friction.

"Have you done this before, Malcolm?" Gil's tone wasn't judging him, just curious. Malcolm shakes his head in answer and Gil kisses him, moaning softly. Once Gil pulls back, he peppers Malcolm's face with soft kisses, his goatee tickling Malcolm’s skin. "Don't worry, I'll be gentle."

"What if.." Malcolm trails off, unsure. 

"What if?"

Malcolm wets his lips. Gil's gaze follows the path his tongue takes.

"What if I don't want you to be gentle?" 

Gil cannot help but moan at that, rutting his hips up against the body on top of him. "You are going to be the death of me, bird boy."

Gil presses a kiss to Malcolm's collarbone. 

"Do you have any lotion or lubricant? We can always wait." 

Malcolm nods his head at his side table. "In there."

"I thought.." 

Malcolm tries to hide his face in his wing. "It's for me."

Gil chuckles and brushes the feather down Malcolm's side again just to hear his gasp. "Malcolm, you don't have to hide from me."

Gil drops the feather off to the side of the bed, reaching in Malcolm's side table to grab what he needs.

Malcolm holds onto the headboard on either side of Gil's head, keeping his balance while he feels rough hands caress down his back, down to his ass, spreading his cheeks apart.

The first touch of cool lubricant covered fingers has him whining and pressing back for more as Gil strokes against his hole.

"Please, Gil." 

He slowly works the finger in. Malcolm is unable to keep himself from rocking back onto Gil's hand.

He is so hard it hurts, trying to get any relief he can by rubbing against his mate's stomach, leaking precome against Gil’s tan skin. 

"How does that feel?"

"I'm ready for more, please." He was burning up inside, and he _needed_ his mate to take him. It was an exquisite burning, like the warmth in his chest, but spreading through his entire body, seeking his mate, seeking connection.

Gil leans forward to kiss him, continuing to stretch Malcolm until he was ready. 

Pressing one last kiss to Malcolm's lips, he removes his fingers, and Malcolm whines at the loss. 

Gil slicks up his own cock, rubbing the head against his sensitive entrance, and Malcolm can hardly focus. He fans his wings out, pressing back into Gil, but Gil halts him by a firm grip on his hips.

"Start slowly, love." 

And though he knows he currently doesn't have a bill, Malcolm cannot fight the instinct to rub his nose against Gil's, following his directions for once. When Malcolm slowly seats himself on his mate's cock, the stretch is more than he had ever expected.

He loves it. 

He has never felt so full, so complete. 

It almost feels like the ever present warmth is spreading to his mate. _It's perfect._

He rocks experimentally, moaning. 

"Are you alright, sweetheart?" Gil’s hands rub up and down his thighs, soothing him, letting him adjust to the intrusion. 

"Yeah.. I'm just used to my fingers. You're infinitely bigger than that." 

Gil groaned, gripping Malcolm's hips. "I'm not going to last long if you keep saying things like that."

Malcolm finally releases his hold on the headboard, winding both arms around his lover's body and leaning into Gil’s warmth. He bites his lip from Gil shifting inside of him like slow torture, but Malcolm isn't ready to move yet. Just another minute. 

He wants something first. 

"Gil, please.." Malcolm brings his wings forward more, and even from his position, he can see how the gentle lights of the loft are currently playing off of the highlights in his feathers. They've never been just black. Right now, the blue in his wings has never looked more beautiful. 

He doesn't need to say anything further. His mate understands. Gil slides his hands from their resting place on Malcolm's hips, up his muscles to where his wings grow from his back and buries his hands in the feathers growing at the base. 

The immense pleasure of having his mate touch his wings, of having Gil inside of him; it was almost more than Malcolm could handle. 

"Gil. Now." 

His mate moves one hand down to his hip, gripping hard. "Move with me." 

Gil helps him rise up, just a little, before sliding him back down.

Malcolm gasps. It feels like Gil touches every part of him. He bites Gil's ear, groaning. "Does it always feel this good?"

"Oh, sweetheart. We've barely just begun."

He raises up again, just the head nestled inside him, and he drops back down again. 

"God, you are so fucking beautiful, Malcolm. That's it. Keep going." 

On the next drop, Gil hits something inside of him and his vision nearly whites out with pleasure. Malcolm cries out, and vaguely hears something clatter to the ground, but it's not important. 

"Nnng.."

Malcolm wants Gil to keep hitting that place in him, will do anything for it. He's desperate, rocking back onto Gil, and then rubs his cock against his lover.

He can feel Gil shifting his legs, bringing his other hand to possess both hips. 

"Hold onto me. Are you ready?" Malcolm leans back and holds onto Gil's shoulders, looking him in the eyes. 

"I love you so much, Gil." His mate leans forward for a quick kiss.

"I love you just as much, Malcolm."

And then suddenly Gil nearly pulls him off and thrusts his hips up, fucking up into Malcolm. 

He nearly screams. 

"That's it. Let me hear you, Malcolm. Don't hold back."

He's just a mess of incoherent sounds at this point, but he has never felt so complete. 

"Gil.. not.. gonna." He knows he sounds wrecked. 

His mate captures his lips, removing a hand from his hip and strokes his cock. Once Gil twists at his head and slams his thick cock into Malcolm, it's over. Malcolm cries out as he paints his mate's chest with his come, and bites Gil's shoulder, too overwhelmed for careful and gentle loving. 

"That's it, Malcolm, oh, I bet that felt so good for you. Fuck, you feel so good." Gil sounds so ravaged, but he keeps thrusting into Malcolm. 

Malcolm licks up Gil's neck to moan in his ear. "Come in me. Mate me."

"Fuck!"

That is all the encouragement Gil needs. He thrusts once,twice more, before finding completion, capturing Malcolm's lips, taking more of him. Malcolm breaks the kiss, peppering kisses all over Gil's face, before laying his head on his mate's shoulder.

Malcolm tries to catch his breath, laying against Gil's chest. He knows they are both a mess, but he has never been happier to just stay here, with Gil carding his fingers through his feathers. 

"Come on. Let's get cleaned up and I'll groom your wings for you. I can already see several feathers out of place." 

Though Gil has groomed his wings many times over the past, this will be the first time Gil has done it as his mate. Every cell in his body nearly _sings_ for the experience. 

And it was probably the only thing that could convince him to climb off of Gil now, sticky as they are. 

Malcolm groans as he climbs off of his mate and off of the bed, shaking out the kinks in all of his limbs, stretching out each of his wings individually. 

Once stretched out, Malcolm finally notices the assortment of items laying on the ground, apparently knocked over by his wings. "I'm going to have to rethink my nightstand set up, hmm.." 

"In all my years, I never thought I would ever have this."

"Have what?" Malcolm turns around to face Gil, still laying on the bed.

"A connection with someone as beautiful inside and out as you. You have so much love to give, and no matter what life throws at you, I have watched you never bow down to the temptation to let it destroy you,” praises Gil.

"That's because I've always had you by my side."

His heart is just full of love for this man, and he looks forward to everything from this day on. 

After a quick wipe down, they relocate to the living room to work on Malcolm's wings.

Gil works quickly and efficiently, smoothing out the feathers he can see out of place. One or two are bent a little too awkwardly and Gil expertly removes them, setting them aside. Malcolm is sore in all the right places, and his body is thrumming with pleasure, and having his mate care for his wings is just relaxing every last bit of him. 

They spend the rest of the evening basking in each other's presence. 

Not quite ready to sleep yet, Gil wanders over to the large window in Malcolm's loft to appreciate the view. Gil has never felt so content, not in the last decade at least. New York City at night is a sight to behold, that was for sure. 

He could see Malcolm walking up behind him, and he smiles at him through the reflection.

"What are you thinking about?" Malcolm wraps his arms around Gil from behind, nuzzling his face into the nape of his mate's neck before placing a kiss there. 

Gil holds his hands in place, just reveling in their closeness.

"Thinking about you." 

Gil watches in the reflection as Malcolm spreads his wings.

It almost looks like they're his. 

"Come to bed, Gil." 

"Love to."


	9. Chapter 8

Gil wakes slowly and comfortably, taking a moment to think back to the memories of last night before he smiles.

Gil's phone rings on the edge of Malcolm's side table and he groans, trying to reach it though he is weighed down by not just the warm body of his lover but also the blanket formed by Malcolm’s wings. His shifting causes Malcolm to whine and curl into him more, and he hates to wake the sweetly sleeping man, but he's afraid the call might be important. 

He finally grasps his phone with his fingertips and hits answer, holding it up to his ear, attempting to keep his voice low. "This is Gil Arroyo."

"Lieutenant."

Gil is now fully awake. This is important. 

"Dispatch received a call this morning. Two hikers stumbled across a body in the woods and the description they gave us sounded an awful lot like the victim we had last week." 

Gil's heart stops dead in his chest. There's been another one already? 

"Text me the location. I'll be there as soon as I can."

Gil sets his phone aside, trying not to be distracted by the entirely naked man nuzzling into his chest. "Malcolm, sweetheart, I need to get up." Gil stares down as Malcolm blinks up at him, his beautiful blue eyes slowly coming into focus. 

"Hmm?" Malcolm stretches his wings high up above them both and Gil's eyes are immediately drawn to them and he cannot help but reach out a hand to run his fingers through the exquisite feathers, their soft texture calling to him. He can hear Malcolm sigh happily and rub his cheek against his chest. 

"As much as I would love to stay in bed with you all morning, I really do need to get to work." Gil regretfully removes his hand from Malcolm's wing and sighs. 

That gets Malcolm's attention and he stays perched over Gil, though he does pull his wings in. "What's going on?" 

"Let's get dressed and I'll tell you about it, ok?" Gil didn't want to have this conversation while still in bed with the other man. 

"They found another body, didn't they?" 

"Malcolm.." 

He rolls off from on top of Gil, climbing out of the bed. Malcolm closes his eyes and calls his wings back into himself. 

Gil is transfixed by the sight before him. Malcolm is beautiful, with or without his wings. 

"I can feel you staring at me, Gil."

Gil averts his gaze, feeling a little silly at being caught staring even when the man in front of him still has his eyes closed, and is facing away from him. 

"Sorry." Malcolm turns at the apology and smiles to let him know he was never upset. 

If Gil were able to look upon the face of his beloved every day for the rest of his life, he would count himself a very lucky man. 

Malcolm walks back over as Gil sits up in the bed, and takes a seat next to him. 

"Take me with you." Malcolm starts off, firm in his tone. 

"Malcolm, I don't know."

He leans forward staring up into Gil's eyes. "Please. I can help. Take me with you, Gil." 

"Are you going to be able to handle seeing another victim, Malcolm? You had a panic attack at the last crime scene. And as much as I want to catch this son of a bitch copycat, your mental health is just as important to me." Gil holds onto Malcolm's hands, grounding them both. 

"But I want to help, Gil. Someone out there is killing people just like my father used to. And they won't stop, and more people will die. I have to do something. Let me come. I'll be in my other form. No one will know." 

Gil sighs. "And just what am I supposed to tell everyone when I show up to an active crime scene accompanied by a strange _crow._ "

Malcolm smirks. "Just tell them I'm a trained search crow." 

"This is going to be such a bad idea." 

☆

Gil pulls up to the edge of the wooded area where the second body had been discovered this morning. Malcolm sits on his passenger seat in his crow form. He had transformed after they had stopped at Gil's house for a change of clothes and to feed the cats before heading to the crime scene. 

"Ok Malcolm, I need you to act as normal as a crow as feasibly possible. I brought you because I trust you. And I think you can help. I don't know what to make of your father's cryptic clue. We need to solve this as soon as we can."

Gil holds out a hand for Malcolm to hop onto while he exits the car, but his feathered companion soon makes his way to perch on Gil’s shoulder. Malcolm pulls affectionately at a strand of Gil's hair. "Stay close, please?" Gil rubs under Malcolm's beak earning a soft noise from the bird. 

Gil walks up to the cordoned off area, already seeing his team handing out orders to the officers on the scene. 

Detectives Powell and Tarmel see him approaching and turn to greet him before both of their gazes are instantly drawn to Malcolm. 

"Um… Boss?" Dani begins.

"You thinking of quitting detective work and becoming a pirate, Gil?" JT steps closer, peering at Malcolm, who just tilts his head and stares back at him, appearing to all the world as if he were a run of the mill crow and not a transformed man. 

Gil gently scratches the top of Malcolm's head who leans into the touch, as though he were one of his lover's many cats waiting for them back at home. "In case you haven't noticed: This is a crow, not a parrot JT."

"And why did you bring a crow to a crime scene, Gil? Better yet, where did you get one?" Dani is giving the two of them concerned looks, and Gil doesn't blame her, but he cannot give away Malcolm's secret. 

"I borrowed him from my friend's rescue. He's… trained to find things." Gil glances at Malcolm out of the corner of his eye, Malcolm just staring straight back at him. 

Dani and JT share a glance before JT addresses Gil. "You caught the original Angelmaker didn't you, Gil? Twenty years ago." 

"I did." 

"So how did that go down?" JT keeps casting glances at Malcolm sitting on Gil's shoulder even as he asks his question. 

"We received a tip so I went to check it out. The house owner turned out to be suspicious of me and attacked me, so I defended myself and made the collar. There isn't much more to it than that." It's not that he doesn't trust his team with the truth, but that it's not his truth to tell. He can feel Malcolm nuzzling under his ear, so he reaches up to scratch the top of his head. 

He is forever thankful to this man for saving him from a fate worse than death. 

"Have you seen the victim yet?" Gil addresses the both of them. 

"Edrisa is with the body right now, and we've had the officers set up a perimeter and get the witness statement. She was found by some hikers early this morning." Dani points off into the woods. "This way." 

The group walks about 50 yards into the wooded area, and Gil sees the body of a young woman laying face down on the ground just off to the side of a well worn hiking trail. Dr. Tanaka is crouched down by the body, doing a preliminary examination before the young woman is transported back to her table for an autopsy. 

"Edrisa, what can you tell me about her?"

The medical examiner looks up at the three detectives approaching her. "Oh Gil, I didn't see you there… is that a _corvus brachyrhynchos_?" Edrisa quickly stands up and walks over to get a closer look at Malcolm, who tilts his head and stares right back at her. 

"I'm sorry. A _what_?" 

"An American crow, Gil. Come on. Keep up. You've got one perched on your shoulder. And I've never seen one with… blue eyes? He must be worth a fortune." 

Malcolm cannot help but screech at that comment, and Gil flinches at the noise. 

Edrisa looks chagrined at their reaction. "Oh, no, I seem to have offended your companion. I meant no offense, pretty bird." She addresses Malcolm directly. "I know crows are very intelligent and I am very sorry." 

Gil can hear JT mutter to Dani behind him. "There is something _off_ about that bird if you ask me."

Gil tries to get them all back on track. "Alright, thanks Edrisa. What can you tell us about our victim?"

"Oh! Yes, sorry. She is missing her wallet so I don't have an ID for her, but as you can see from her back, she has the same Angelmaker trademark. The bone wings. But if I can direct your attention to the back of her leg, over here, you'll see she has been shot with an arrow. Just like our previous victim. Except this time the shaft has been left intact. Hopefully we can get more information from it." She frowns up at Gil. "We weren't able to get anything from the toxicology from the arrowhead from the last victim. Either it was too low a trace, or something interfered with the test. But I'll send this to get tested and hope the results actually show something this time." 

Edrisa grins at Gil after her preliminary rundown of the basic facts. 

"Can you tell me about how long she has been deceased?"

"Her temperature hasn't dropped much and she's just starting to go into rigor… so somewhere between 3 and 8 hours prior. But I would lean closer to 8 hours just based on when we got called in." 

"At least we're getting closer this time. The last victim we found after about 24 hours, right?" He waits for Dr. Tanaka's nod before walking away from the body. 

☆

Malcolm has been paying attention to the exchange as much as possible while keeping his anxiety at bay. He hadn't lied to his mate. He knows he can handle it, but it remains a challenge nonetheless. 

Once Gil moves away from everyone, he tries to get Gil’s attention by headbutting Gil’s cheek. Gil glances at him out of the corner of his eye and Malcolm opens up his wings and flaps them a couple times, trying to communicate that he is ready to help look for anything that could help.

"Hold on." Gil glances around and continues to a more secluded area, away from anyone that might overhear him talking to a bird.

Gil holds out his hand so Malcolm can hop onto it, bringing him closer so they can talk face to face. 

"Malcolm. Stay close. I don't want you getting too far out because there is no telling if this guy is nearby. And you are vulnerable in this form."

Gil caresses the top of Malcolm's feathered head gently. "I couldn't bear it if something happened to you." 

Malcolm cooed softly, a vocalization only for his mate and presses his head up into the touch, loving the contact. 

"Alright. Are you ready? Come back to me when I whistle for you. Call out when you find something." 

Gil turns back towards the crime scene and raises his arm up, signaling for Malcolm to take off. 

Malcolm flies up and circles the area once to get his bearings. He then finds a tree with optimal sight lines to perch in, landing on a branch. 

He can see Gil down below with his two detectives. His mate keeps an eye on him.

Malcolm looks around, at every tree in the area, at the ground below, for anything that stands out to him. Then he catches sight of something that doesn't belong, in a tree at the edge of the perimeter about thirty feet off the ground. Malcolm takes flight towards the other tree and lands in a branch close to it, and is surprised to see an arrow sticking out of the trunk. 

He looks down to see if Gil has followed him and lets out a loud "caw!" to let him know he has found something. 

Malcolm hears Gil whistle sharply and he leaves his perch and dives towards the ground, spreading his wings to pull up before he hits the ground, exhilarated. He circles the group before he sees Gil with his arm out, ready for him to land, an unamused expression on his face. 

"Where the hell did you get this bird again, Gil?" The man who his mate refers to as Detective Tarmel gives him a peculiar look. Malcolm just turns away and shakes his tail feathers, earning a laugh from Detective Powell. 

His mate sighs at his antics before answering the question with their cover story. "He's on loan from the Bird Rescue my friend works at."

"And it looks like bringing him wasn't a half bad idea since your little bird friend found something up in that tree." Detective Powell squints up to see what Malcolm discovered. "Oh, well, I'll be damned. There's an arrow up in that tree. Bet it might match the one we found in our victim. I'll call in a cherry picker so we can extract it." 

Malcolm watches her walk off to place her phone call, her partner following a few steps behind. Malcolm looks up at Gil from where he sits on his mate's arm.

Gil checks around to see if anyone is paying attention to them before glancing down at Malcolm and speaking softly to him. "Good job finding that arrow, but please take more care with yourself. I want you to take another look and see if you find anything else." 

Malcolm flies around the perimeter another time, but nothing catches his eye. 

He spends the rest of the time at the crime scene perched in a tree, following his mate with his eyes as Gil does his job, wondering just who is copying his father's experiments. And how did the copycat figure it out?


	10. Chapter 9

Dr. Martin Whitly was sitting in his cell at Rikers and reading a book while waiting for his favorite guard to come by with information on whether or not his request might be honored. 

Today was definitely going to be a pivotal day, indeed. 

He heard the key jangle in the lock to his cell door and he placed the bookmark into his book and set it aside before he turned in his seat to see Mr. David enter his cage. 

"Ah! Mr. David, do come in." The quiet guard raised an eyebrow at being invited into a prisoner's cell.

The prisoner leaned forward in his chair as the tall man closed the cell door behind him.

"So, please, don't keep me waiting. Do you have any news if my request has been granted?" Martin could not keep the eagerness out of his voice. 

"I just came from the Warden's office. Due to the change in your sentencing terms, since you are no longer seeking any further appeals, he has agreed to allow you one hour on the yard." 

Dr. Whitly grinned, pleased. "Oh, that is most excellent news. I do so miss the sunlight, and the wind against my face. Do you know when I might have this hour of yard time, Mr. David?"

"The Warden will be arranging it for later this afternoon. Me and another guard will be accompanying you and there will be no others there as you are still considered a special prisoner." 

Martin nodded, keeping the pleasant smile on his face. This was absolutely perfect.

"Thank you, Mr. David. I think I shall just read my book until my time on the yard." He turned back in his chair, picking up his book and opening it to the last read page, setting his bookmark aside. 

The guard departed his cell without another word exchanged after Martin flipped the page in his book, not having read the last. Too busy thinking about what was to come, but needing to keep up appearances all the same. 

☆

Martin kept himself busy over the next several hours running through the procedures in his head. 

Finally, his guard came to bring him to the yard, unlatching his cell door and stepping inside holding up the wrist and ankle handcuffs.

"Oh, surely you aren't going to keep me cuffed for my first hour of fresh air in twenty years?" Martin nearly pouted, trying not to think about what this might do to his plan. 

"Relax, Martin. It's just for the walk. You know the protocol. Anytime a prisoner such as yourself is outside of their cell, on goes these." He held up the clanking chains for emphasis.

That put a smile back on the disgraced scientist's face. 

_Everything was going according to plan._

"Well, if I must." He held out both of his arms. 

Mr. David attached the cuffs to both of his wrists and ankles, and Martin could not wait to be free of their weight. 

These chains were his jesses. 

He hated them.

Once the chains were affixed, Mr. David led him out of his cage, where they met the other guard at the end of the hallway. 

Together, the three of them made their way through the halls of the prison, passing through various checkpoints, closer and closer to the prospect of sunlight on his face for the first time in twenty years. 

The guard in front of him opened one last door and they walk outside. 

Martin breathed deeply, and turned his face towards the sky. The spring sun was high in the sky. It was a beautiful day. 

The trio walked further into the yard before stopping and Martin held up his wrists to Mr. David. "If you please." 

The other man unlocked the cuffs from around the prisoner's wrists and ankles, releasing him. 

"So, I've got one whole hour to do as I please outside?" 

Mr. David raised an eyebrow at Martin. "There are rules, Martin. The same as there are inside these walls. You will not go near the fences. There will be no running. If you want to exercise, you can do jumping jacks or push ups." 

Martin tapped his chin with a finger. "And if I wanted to take off my shirt and sunbathe, is that against the rules?" 

Mr. David looked to the other guard who just shrugged back at him. "Weird request, but it's not against the rules." 

Martin grinned. "I'm so happy to hear that, gentlemen."

Martin walked away from the two guards tasked with watching him before he pulled off his prison issued top, holding it in his hand at his side. He rolled his shoulders and enjoyed the sun on his skin for the first time in twenty years. 

The guard who Martin didn’t know the name of spoke up. "Umm. Mr. Whitly? When did you get that tattoo?"

Martin looked back over his shoulder at the guard, unable to keep the scowl from his face at the address. "I still hold a doctorate, and I am still a Doctor, so I am _Dr._ Whitly. And I've had these for over twenty years."

The guard scoffed. "Didn't you lose your license when you were sentenced to life in here?"

"I wasn't a medical doctor, so I didn't have a medical license to lose. I was a scientist." 

Martin turned back to face the empty yard before him and walked a few more steps before coming to a stop. He dropped the shirt he was holding and rolled out his shoulders once more, stretching his arms above his head, bending side to side. 

He looked like a man just running through some stretching exercises, nothing out of the ordinary. 

"Let's hope this still works after all these years." 

Dr. Martin Whitly closed his eyes to concentrate. 

He could feel the change happening. 

He shrank down into his pants. 

He heard yelling a distance behind him. 

An alarm was going off in the prison. 

But that didn’t matter to Dr. Martin Whitly. 

Moments later, a red tailed hawk escaped Rikers Island, screeching loudly, victorious. 

☆

Jessica received the phone call from the prison a few hours later, informing her of the news. The glass she was holding shattered on the floor where she dropped it in shock. 

She instantly called Malcolm. 

After spending most of the day as a crow with Gil at the crime scene, Malcolm and Gil were relaxing together at the loft with some take away. They had stopped at Gil's house to check in with the cats and for Gil to grab a few things. It was just the two of them on Malcolm's couch, curled up together after a long day. 

He picked up the phone after a few rings. 

"Malcolm? I need you to come home. We need to talk."

If he had his feathers out, he'd have them fluffed up in anxiety at the tone of his mother’s voice. But he knew that Gil could tell he was tense by the look which Gil was giving him, as his mate set food on the table in front of them and turned his full attention on him. 

"Mother? Why do you need me to come home?" 

"We can talk about that when you get here,” insisted his mother Jessica. 

Malcolm looked over to Gil, setting his food aside. "Can you just tell me now? I'm busy."

"Malcolm. I'd rather talk about this in person."

"Please, Mother. Just tell me."

"Malcolm, dear… I hate to be the one to tell you this, but... well... your father escaped."

Malcolm's mind went blank. 

His grip on the phone went lax and he dropped it. 

Malcolm's skin was buzzing, thrumming. 

What was going on? 

"Malcolm? What's going on?" He can hear Gil's voice next to him. He's… worried?

 _"Hello, Malcolm?? Sweetheart? Are you alright?"_ Came the voice of his mother from a distance through the speaker of his phone, where it lay on the floor. 

Nothing seemed real. 

He heard Gil pick up his phone, but he's not paying attention at that point. "Mrs. Whitly? It's Gil Arroyo. I'm here with Malcolm, don't worry. I'll take care of him. I'll have him call you tomorrow... Thank you for letting us know. Yes. Thank you. Goodbye." 

He thought Gil put his phone on the table with their food but he didn’t care.

His father escaped. 

His father, _The Angelmaker_ , escaped. 

"Hey, bird boy, don't go some place I cannot follow. Come back to me, Malcolm."

He felt Gil's comforting hand heavy on the back of his neck, grounding him, pulling him forward until their foreheads met.

"Gil.."

"That's it. Come back to me, sweetheart."

He focused on the sound of Gil’s voice, on his touch, on his presence. The panic started to abate. 

Gil pulled back and Malcolm attempted to chase the connection, utterly lost in the moment.

"Hold on, give me a moment." Gil situated himself on the couch to a more comfortable position before opening his arms to Malcolm, inviting. 

Malcolm immediately scrambled up into Gil’s lap, curling up and tucking his head under Gil’s chin. Gil wrapped his arms around Malcolm, completely content.

"Whenever you're ready to talk about it, Malcolm, I'm here." 

Malcolm peeked at his mate through the corner of his eye but his gaze fell short from the angle. He hoped his mumbled reply was lost on the other man. "And if I'm never ready?" 

Gil heard him nonetheless. "Then I'll still be here, Malcolm."

It was just that simple. And it was just that easy. 

In the twenty years they have known each other, it always has been. 

Malcolm mumbled into his mate's chest. "My father escaped."

Gil tightened his grip on Malcolm, not offering a reply. There wasn't much he could do from his position, other than to offer Malcolm some semblance of peace. 

Gil kissed the top of Malcolm's hair, trying his best to soothe his partner. 

"I don't know what we are going to do tonight, but I promise you that I won't stop looking until I find him again and he's back in prison where he belongs."

Malcolm still felt anxious, still incredibly worried with his father on the loose and the copycat out there as well. But his mate just had a way of making everything a bit better. 

They spent the rest of the evening curled up on the couch together before eventually going to bed with Gil thankfully spending the night again. 

Malcolm was glad not to be alone right now.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In case you are coming into this with absolutely no knowledge about about birds. A jess is a strap (usually leather) used to tether hawks in falconry.


	11. Chapter 10

Malcolm feels bad about sneaking out while Gil was asleep in Malcolm's own bed, while they were still only barely two days into this brand new relationship of theirs. But the urgency to do something more compelled him to move. 

He leaves a note to tell Gil that he would be out for a while and to not worry.

Malcolm knows he's not supposed to come back to the crime scene which hasn't fully been cleared yet, but something was calling him. 

It's early in the morning when Malcolm enters the woods again. There is still some morning dew on the grass. The body had been removed the day before and the area thoroughly searched for clues, but the yellow police tape still remains, marking the perimeter. Malcolm pulls up the plastic strip and ducks under the barrier. The only thing he had managed to find yesterday with Gil's team was that stray arrow in the tree that could be connected to the two victims. 

But something isn't right. Something isn't sitting well with Malcolm. 

And so he came back to the second new crime scene. Alone. 

His mate is going to be so unhappy with him. 

Malcolm walks the perimeter of the entire crime scene, paying attention to everything. He expands his gaze to pick up on anything that he could have missed yesterday in his other form. 

There are still evidence marker flags scattered around where the body was located. She had been found much the same.

Malcolm retraces the steps he took with Gil the day before, trying to find _any_ new scrap of information they may have missed, when a sharp and piercing pain hits the back of his left calf. 

Malcolm barely has enough time to glance down at the arrow sticking out of the back of his leg before his muscles stop responding and he collapses onto the ground. 

He can't move. 

_He can't move._

**_He can't move!_ **

He can hear the snap of a twig some distance behind him, and something tells him it was intentional. 

"Oh, dear, look what I've caught in my trap." 

Malcolm doesn't recognize the voice, and he cannot move his eyes far enough to catch a glimpse of his hunter. 

"Surely you understand the effects of succinylcholine. You are a veterinarian, after all. Malcolm Whitly."

Succinylcholine? That's how he's been paralyzing his victims in order to carry out his experiments? The same experiments his father conducted two decades ago that resulted in the deaths of an untold number of people? That forever changed the lives of him and his sister?

Who is this man? 

"Succinylcholine will leave you paralyzed long enough for me to do what I need to." 

The man finally walks into Malcolm's field of view and if Malcolm were capable of movement or speech, he might have screamed and tried to flee. The most Malcolm is capable of is a low wheeze. 

The man looming over him definitely isn’t fully human. 

His visible skin is grey. A few white feathers stick out from the skin of his neck. Malcolm could see a few sparse black feathers growing further down from where the neck of the man's shirt stretches past his collarbone. 

In one scaled hand, he clutches a recurve bow, slinging the weapon to rest on his shoulder. 

He leans down close to Malcolm's prone form, and Malcolm gets a close look into his sickly yellow eyes. 

"I've got plans for you, Malcolm. Unfortunately, the succinylcholine should be wearing off soon." 

The other man stands back and reaches into his pocket for a rag and a bottle before uncapping the bottle and dousing the rag. 

He sets the rag over Malcolm's nose and mouth. 

"Now, breathe deeply, pretty bird." 

Malcolm has no other option. 

Within a few minutes, everything has gone black and he is fully at the mercy of this abomination. 

☆

Malcolm comes to consciousness slowly, his head pounding violently. The first thing he becomes aware of is the fact that he is lying on a cold cement floor. 

The next thing he becomes aware of is that he is chained to the floor. 

His captor divested him of his shirt, putting his extensive back tattoos fully on display. 

But if the man knew his name and his profession and went through the trouble to kidnap him, chances were that his captor already knew his secret. 

He hears the sound of boots slowly descending the stairs at the edge of the small room he currently finds himself in. He is no longer alone.

"Ah, you're awake. I had hoped you wouldn't sleep the day away, Malcolm. We have so much to talk about." 

"W..h." Malcolm attempts to talk but his mouth and throat are so dry that he cannot get the words out and starts coughing violently. 

"Oh dear, I'm being such a poor host. You must be thirsty." The other man's words are saccharine on the surface, but Malcolm can sense the threat in every movement he makes. 

His captor drops an unopened bottle of water on the floor in front of him, and Malcolm has enough leeway in his chains to grab it. The loud clanking of metal echoes in the room. Before Malcolm opens the bottle, he stares up at the other man to read his intentions for offering Malcolm the water. 

Clearly, he isn’t subtle enough because the other man laughs at him. "I haven't poisoned your water, Malcolm. Where would be the fun in that? I've already got you." 

He crouches down a few feet in front of Malcolm. "I've been rather rude, haven't I? I know your name, but I've neglected to introduce myself. My name is John Watkins."

Malcolm cannot help but stare into Watkins' pale yellow eyes, illuminated as they are in the low light of the room. 

Malcolm finally tears his eyes away to open the bottle of water and takes a few gulps. He is convinced it is the best tasting water he has ever had in his life. He closes the bottle, wanting to conserve this precious resource, unsure how long he will be kept here without any guarantee of future hospitality. 

"Watkins. Why am I here? How do you know me?" His voice is still raspy, even if he managed to quench his thirst somewhat. 

Watkins taps his chin with a scaled finger, thoughtful. 

He completely disregards the first question. "I know you because I know your father."

That surprises Malcolm. 

"You know my father?" 

"Don't be so dense. Why do you think I look like this?" 

"He… did this.. to you..?" 

John Watkins stands back up and circles Malcolm. "I was supposed to be like _you._ I was supposed to be more than this… _monstrosity._ " 

Malcolm could sense the disgust in his tone when he talked about himself. 

What exactly happened? 

Did his father do this? His father had to have caused this. There's no other explanation. But how did Watkins survive the experiment when no one else had? 

John Watkins is standing a few feet away from him, facing away from him now. 

"Ok. So you knew my father. What do you want from me?"

For a moment, the only sound in the room is the sound of metal against concrete as Malcolm tries to shift to a more comfortable position. But in a split second, John Watkins turns on Malcolm and he has a knife against Malcolm’s throat. 

If he were to take more than a shallow breath, the blade would nick his throat.

"Show me." 

Malcolm cannot do more than whisper in reply. "What?" 

"Don't play dumb." Watkins presses the blade ever more slightly closer to the skin of his throat. _"Show me your wings, Malcolm."_

Deep down, Malcolm knows he doesn't have a choice. 

He closes his eyes to concentrate in the stressful environment. 

He calls forth his wings, cursing himself for being stupid enough to get caught in the first place. How is he ever going to escape? How is Gil ever going to find him? 

Malcolm doesn't want to open his eyes, doesn't want to see the way Watkins looks at him. Malcolm tries to keep his wings as close to his body as possible, even though he is sitting on the ground, chained to the cement floor, fully at the mercy of this... John Watkins. 

He can feel the pressure of the knife leave his throat as the other man strokes along the ridge of his marginal coverts, and down the line of his primaries. It takes everything that Malcolm has in him not to shudder in disgust. Only his mate should ever lay his hands on his wings. Not his captor. 

"Your father did this to me. Now… I think it's time for you to atone for his sins." 

It feels as though an icy hand has wrapped itself around his heart. He is awash in fear at what John Watkins is going to do to him. 

"Watkins… please. You don't have to do this."

Watkins stood to his full height behind Malcolm, and sighed. 

"Oh, pretty bird, but I do." 

Watkins stomps a boot on the middle of Malcolm's back, grasps Malcolm's right wing, and yanks, snapping the bone.

The pain is incomprehensible.

Malcolm can hear someone screaming.

It doesn't immediately register that the sound is coming from him, until a slap across his face silences him.

 _John Watkins broke his wing._

"Now you can be just as much a failed experiment as me, Malcolm Whitly." Watkins mocks him, walking to stand in front of him. 

Malcolm can barely think through the pain in his wing, panting he looks up at the other man. Watkins stands over him, brings his boot to Malcolm's bare chest, and gently pushes him over. It's all Malcolm can do to fall on his uninjured wing, before he passes out from the pain.

☆

Malcolm is only aware of the pain.

Mostly the pain of a broken wing. It is almost too much to comprehend.

He is vaguely aware of the arrow head still lodged in the back of his leg, but it is a minor thing. Barely an inconvenience in the grand scheme of things.

"Oh, are you finally starting to wake up, Malcolm?"

He is still laying on the cold cement ground, metal handcuffs firmly clasped around both wrists. A length of chain connects them to the cement floor. 

Malcolm couldn't decide whether the smooth, cold floor was a balm against his skin, or just another ache to invite in once the cold set in his bones. 

He cracks one eye open and looks at Watkins, not making a move to sit up. "So, what now?"

John Watkins taps the tip of the knife against his chin. 

"Now? Now, I see just what makes you so special, pretty bird. Why I didn't turn out like you."

He stalks over to the table along the back wall. Malcolm follows John Watkins with his eyes, still too exhausted and in too much pain to do much but lay there. 

"What are you planning to do? Dissect me?" 

He hears a low chuckle and cannot help the involuntary shudder, which pulls at his broken wing, and Malcolm has to bite his tongue to stifle a whimper. 

"No… no.. nothing so base, Malcolm. We are men of science. You and me. And I'd like you to live at least a little while longer. Just in case I have use for you." 

He hears the scuff of the other man's boots as he walks back in front of Malcolm and squats down in front of him. "Alright, I might have never reached the level of scientific acclaim that your father had, nor his degrees, but I did okay for myself as a lab tech under his tutelage all those years ago." 

John Watkins sets out a shallow metal tray in front of Malcolm's face. He could see an elastic tourniquet, several plastic tubes, and a butterfly needle laying ready for use.

John Watkins was going to draw his blood.

"This will go so much easier if you don't fight me. Wouldn't want to accidentally cause a hematoma in your pretty arm." 

Malcolm smirks up at his captor. "This would be so much easier if you just uncuff me." He holds up his shackled wrists. "Pretty please?" 

He knows it isn't going to happen. Watkins has no interest in letting him go any time soon. That much is apparent.

Watkins yanks Malcolm’s bound wrists closer to himself, the scales on his hands chafing the skin of Malcolm’s already bruised wrists. "You know I'm not about to release you, foolish little song bird." 

"..'m not a songbird." It's such a meaningless point to try and make while in his current position, but what else is he supposed to do? 

Watkins drops his wrists to grab the tourniquet. 

"Ah, but you're as pretty as a songbird. I can't even go out into public looking the way I do. I've had to kill and steal for most of my provisions. But, maybe whatever is locked in your DNA might be able to… _right the wrongs_ of what your father did to me."

Malcolm sighs and closes his eyes. Today has truly been the worst. He should have stayed home in bed with Gil. 

Watkins doesn't get a chance to tie the elastic band around Malcolm's arm before an arrow flies through the air and embeds itself in his shoulder. 

John Watkins looks up towards the stairs, stumbling backwards. "No! How'd you find me?" 

The sound of fear in Watkins' voice does not sit well with him. 

Another arrow embeds itself into his captor’s other shoulder. 

Whoever has come to join them is probably not here to save Malcolm from John Watkins.

Malcolm grits his teeth as he tries to breathe through the agonizing pain in his wing. He cannot see the newcomer from his current position and so he needs to shift to sit up, and **_fuck_** the pain nearly makes him pass out again. 

Malcolm finally makes it to a somewhat vertical position, though he has yet to turn and face Watkins' assailant, because all he can do is stare at Watkins in abject horror. 

Watkins is sprawled on the ground, unmoving, staring behind Malcolm with horror plain to see in his eyes. 

"When I gave you my formula… I did not expect that your monstrosity would even _dare_ to taint the perfection of what **_I_** created."

Every muscle in his body freezes. 

There is no mistaking that voice.

It might have been twenty years since the last time he heard it in person, but it features regularly in his nightmares. 

Malcolm is injured and chained to a cement floor in an unknown location where no one knows his whereabouts, in the same room as the copycat to his father's murders and his father who is armed with arrows laced with a paralytic sedative. 

Oh, he is _fucked._

"Just give me a few minutes with John here and then we'll fly this coop together, son." The tone of his voice shouldn't sound so jovial.

Malcolm has not seen his father in twenty years. Not since that night. Not since Gil saved him. He looks nearly the same as he did back then, perhaps more grey, but still giving off the same aura of a bird of prey that he always did. 

Malcolm always hated red tailed hawks. 

Hawks are one of the only natural predators a crow has. 

Malcolm keeps his head down, not wanting to draw attention to himself in any way when his father is walking so close to him on his path. 

Martin pauses when he is standing right in front of him, and Malcolm dares not move a muscle. 

He can almost hear his father growling, low in his chest. 

_"You broke his **wing**.. you failed experiment.. barely a _vultur gryphus_. You should have died twenty years ago, John Watkins."_

Malcolm knows that the anger in Martin Whitly's voice does not come from a place of love, but rather outrage that his perfect pet project has been damaged. 

Malcolm has only ever been a science experiment to his father. 

Martin Whitly walks around Malcolm towards the immobile man, grabbing his leg and dragging him to the far corner of the room. 

"Now, let me show you what a true bird of prey can do." 

Malcolm cannot help but watch, horrified, knowing that John Watkins’s time on this earth was limited.

Martin Whitly kneels over his prey. "You have no wings, cannot fly, but look what I can do."

Malcolm cannot hold back a gasp as he watches his father raise both of his hands, and his fingernails shift into long black talons. 

"There are so many benefits to being a fully evolved homo volucris. Something you will never get to experience." Martin runs his talons across the grey skin of Watkins’s throat, gently enough that only a small line of red appears. "If you had only just taken my formula and tried to fix your condition, then maybe you could have lived another day. But I cannot allow you to continue on this path."

Martin Whitly lets out a cry that is more hawk than human and thrusts his talons into John Watkins’s yellow eyes, the succinylcholine in his prey's system hindering any chance of fighting back.

Malcolm closes his eyes and turns his head away, no longer able to watch the man's last moments. 

He can do nothing to stop himself from hearing the quiet whimpers of John Watkins, the only action which John Watkins is capable of under the effects of the succinylcholine, and the joyful screeching of Martin Whitly. 

Suddenly, there is nothing.

The room is quiet. 

Malcolm doesn't want to look and see what happened. 

"Now that he's out of the way, let's get reacquainted, my boy."

Malcolm reluctantly opens his eyes.

His father is closer again, grinning at him and he cannot help but try and shift further away, the chains hindering any hope he has at gaining distance from this mad scientist. 

"That's no way to greet your father, Malcolm. Haven't you missed me? I know I've missed you. Now… how about we set that wing of yours?"


	12. Chapter 11

Gil rolls over in Malcolm's sinfully comfortable bed to where he should find the man himself, but instead Gil's arm finds empty space. 

"Malcolm?"

No answer. 

Cracking one eye open, he lays a hand on the sheets where Malcolm should have been, finding them cold. He's been gone a while.

Gil sits up and looks around for any sign of him, before spotting a note laying atop Malcolm's pillow.

> Gil- 
> 
> I'm sorry if I'm not back by the time you wake up, I had to go check on something. 
> 
> Shouldn't be gone long. 
> 
> -Malcolm

And he drew a tiny little bird next to his name, which would have made Gil smile if the contents of the note didn't trouble him.

Where would Malcolm need to go? 

He wasn't scheduled to go in until tomorrow, so he probably didn't go to the rescue. If he had gone there, he would have said so.

So why the note? And why not specify where he was headed?

And why leave while Gil was asleep? 

It feels like his stomach dropped.

He wouldn't go there, would he? 

_He absolutely would._

Gil jumps out of the bed and grabs his bag, pulling out the clothes he had brought with him the evening before.

Hopefully, Malcolm just went to the store to pick up something for breakfast that he was suddenly craving. But on the off chance that the bird brain went off to do dumb shit on his own, and with the Angelmaker on the loose, and no idea of the copycat's identity, Gil was just not about to take that chance.

He takes a quick moment to add his own scribble to the note, just in case Malcolm does return. Gil doesn't want to worry him.

Grabbing his phone and his keys, Gil is quickly out the door not 15 minutes after waking up. And nothing he told himself could quite quash the growing sense of worry crawling up his throat. 

Once in the Le Mans, he heads towards the second crime scene and dials Malcolm's cell.

"Hi, you've reached Malcolm Bright. Please leave your name and number and I'll get back to you when I can."

"Malcolm. Please tell me you didn't go back there. Please call me." 

Gil checks to make sure he hasn't missed a text, but hasn't. 

_Damn it, Malcolm._

Gil couldn't explain the anxiety he was feeling, nor the fact that it just would not abate. But with every passing moment, his fear continued to grow.

Finally, after what seemed too long of a drive, Gil pulled up near the entrance of the wooded area where the second body was found. 

Gil ducks under a few branches, and walks down the path to the beginning of where the crime scene had been roped off. 

He couldn't see Malcolm anywhere, but that didn't mean he wasn't here. Or that he hadn't been here earlier. 

Gil checks his phone again. 

Still no texts and no calls. 

He brings a hand up to rub at the middle of his chest in an attempt to alleviate the persistent icy feeling behind his sternum. 

Something isn't right. 

Even if he cannot logically explain away the feeling. 

Walking around the perimeter, Gil keeps his eyes peeled, looking to see if there is any sign of his wayward bird.

Everything looks nearly the same after the scene has been thoroughly processed.

_But something isn't right._

He nearly misses it, hidden in the grass as it was, only catching a glimpse of something out of the corner of his eye. Gil walks closer, crouching down to see what caught his attention. He finds the red and black fletching of a broken arrow shaft sticking up from the grass.

A broken arrow shaft with dry blood visible on the splintered wood that definitely wasn't here yesterday.

Normally, Gil would immediately be calling in his subordinates, but something in his gut is telling him to take another first step.

He calls Ainsley. 

"Ainsley Whitly, it's Gil Arroyo. I know we don't talk much, but please hear me out."

"Lieutenant Arroyo? Good morning.. I think."

"I'm short on time and I think you can help me out." Gil would rather not sound so rude, but he is sure Ainsley will understand in the end.

"Why not talk to Malcolm? Aren't you both joined at the hip?" He truly hates to have to tell her over the phone. 

"Listen, I don't have much to go on other than a broken arrow and a bad feeling, but I think Malcolm is missing. I know you're much smaller than him, but I need eyes in the sky right now if it can help me find him faster." 

"Tell me where you are. I'm on my way."

He gives her directions to the wooded area and walks back up towards the Le Mans to wait for Ainsley. He checks his phone again for Malcolm, sends another text to be sure. 

Calls him one last time. 

"Hi, you've reached Malcolm Bright-" Gil hangs up before the full voice-mail message can play out.

The anxiety of not knowing where Malcolm is while his father is on the loose, while yet another killer is out there, is enough to drive Gil into an early retirement.

Nearly 20 minutes later, a sedan pulls down the road and Gil steps away from his car, ready to greet Ainsley Whitly as she steps out of her uber.

Gil doesn't spend as much time around Ainsley, maybe sees her a few times a year, but has kept her phone number, as well as Jessica Whitly's, at Malcolm’s behest. 

And he is ever so thankful that he did. 

He can tell how worried she is, but he knows the same expression is mirrored on his own face. 

She rushes up to him and throws her arms around him in a quick hug which he readily returns, the both of them trying to find comfort in the other. 

Once she pulls back, Ainsley gets right to the heart of the matter. "Tell me where you think he is."

"The problem is that I don't know. I don't know where he might be. I don't even know for sure that he is actually gone, other than something just doesn't feel right." The icy feeling in his chest is back, but he resists the desire to alleviate it in any way he can manage. 

"All I know is that your father escaped prison yesterday, there is someone out there copying your father's crimes, and suddenly he leaves the loft this morning with a note, doesn't mention where he is going, doesn't answer his phone." Gil is aware that he is rambling, but at this point he does not care.

"Are you sure he's missing? He often doesn't answer his phone or return texts." 

"Not for me he doesn't." 

"Oh." She pauses for a moment. "So you think he's in the area?"

Gil sighs and drags a hand down over his face. "I don't have anything better to go on. And the longer I wait trying to involve the police, the worse it could end up for your brother."

"Ok." And without any further ado, Ainsley starts to take off her shirt.

"Whoa! I'm not done yet!" Gil hurriedly turns around and throws a hand over his eyes, embarrassed. 

"You said it yourself, Lieutenant Arroyo. The sooner we find my brother, the better."

Gil keeps staring off into woods just in case his possible future sister in law continues to strip for her transformation. 

"Yes, I said that. But I am just as concerned for your safety, Ainsley. And please, call me Gil."

"Ok, Mr. In Charge Detective Man. What are the rules?" He can still hear the rustling of cloth behind him so he knows to not turn around.

"I need you to _please for the love of all things that are holy… be careful, Ainsley._ Do not do anything dangerous or stupid. I don't have much to go on, but I think the two of us should start searching the area before I call anyone in. No one is going to just come in on a hunch, unless I've got some evidence or anything else to back it up."

"So you need me to just fly and see if I can find anything?"

"Basically." 

"Ok, let's do this thing."

He hears nothing for a few minutes until a soft shift of what he assumes is Ainsley's clothing dropping and then the bird herself zooms in front of his face. 

He has never had the pleasure of seeing Ainsley's other form, and he wishes it were under better circumstances, because she is a sight to behold. 

"Let me stash your clothes real quick before we get going," Gil announces to the tiny white hummingbird, even knowing she cannot reply. Or at least reply in a way that would be readily apparent.

Hummingbirds were quite different than crows, after all.

With Ainsley's clothing safely stored in the Le Mans, Gil and his feathered friend set out, but not before Gil checks his phone one last time.

"Hi, you've reached Malcolm Bright. Please leave your name and number and I'll get back to you when I can."

He hangs up again. 

Gil would give almost anything to go back to his life two days ago. 

Before Malcolm apparently went missing. 

Before Martin Whitly escaped from prison. 

When it was just the two of them, safe together, their feelings finally out in the open, and just starting on this path hand in hand. 

Not this. Not this uncertainty. Not this fear that he might be too late. 

Gil and Ainsley search deeper into the woods for a few hours, until they stumble upon the barest hint of a trail. 

"Can you check to see if there is anything over that way." He points down the winding trail where it disappears into the thicker trees and watches her zip up above the tree line for a better view. 

Gil leans against the tree to wait for her return. Though he might be in excellent shape for his age, this jaunt through the woods is still fairly taxing after a while. And Gil is starting to tire, but he will not give up until he can find Malcolm. 

His smartphone display is disheartening, with no return messages from Malcolm.

It doesn't take as long as he would have thought for Ainsley to return. The tiny white bird flits back down through the foliage and hovers a few feet in front of his face. Gil steps away from the tree and asks with a hopeful tone, "Did you see anything?"

He can see a nearly imperceptible dip in her tiny white head and for a moment he allows himself to hope. 

Together, the two of them follow the trail until it opens on a clearing where a cabin sits.

Gil dares not go any closer yet, but from this distance he can see a quiver laying on an outdoor table near the cabin. He cannot see a bow of any kind, so whoever lives here could be armed.

He turns to Ainsley. "I need you to go back to the car. I'm going to call in some people and I need you to lead them here to me. Can you do that?"

Gil knows in his heart of hearts that if he were giving this same direction to her brother that it would never in a million years be followed. But he thinks he can trust her to do this, considering just what is at stake. 

Ainsley doesn't even wait to acknowledge his request before zipping off through the trees as fast as he has ever seen a hummingbird fly.

Gil yanks out his phone and hurriedly calls for backup. 

"Dani, JT. I need you both at yesterday's crime scene. And I need you here now. Have other officers and a bus put on standby." 

There is a pause before he gets a reply. 

"What happened? I thought you had the day off." 

"I'm pretty sure Malcolm's been taken by the copycat and I need you to come here."

"Wait, Gil. Who is Malcolm?" JT must have put him on speaker because he can hear Dani clearly.

"Listen. We don't have time for that. When you get here, look for the white hummingbird and she'll lead you to me."

Gil's stress level spikes while he waits for a reply.

"Don't take this the wrong way. Are you high?" He can hear how incredulous JT sounds over the line.

"JT, I understand how insane it sounds. Just do it."

"Umm sure thing boss." 

Once he gives them a description of the cabin and what he finds outside, they are a little more inclined to follow along with his plans.

"And what are you going to do, Gil?"

"The only thing I can right now." Gil stares at the cabin just beyond the treeline and rubs at his forehead. He has to make sure that Malcolm isn't in there. Has to make sure Malcolm is ok.

Has to make sure Malcolm is still _alive._

"Gil, you don't know what you're walking into." He could hear them scrambling in the background, someone giving orders, movement happening. 

"I know. But I don't have a choice. Remember. Follow the white hummingbird." 

He hangs up, but he checks his messages for Malcolm one last time before he pockets his phone. 

Still nothing. 

Hopefully soon, this will all be but a distant nightmare.

He creeps closer to the cabin, keeping his wits about him. This would be the perfect place for traps to warn the owner of an approaching trespasser. 

Thankfully, he sees nothing that could possibly alert the owner of the cabin to his presence and he walks ever closer.

Gil tries the doorknob and is surprised to find it is unlocked. 

That is one less problem he will have to deal with right now. 

He eases the door open slowly and listens for any sign of life. Voices originate from down the stairs which are immediately visible inside the cabin. 

Gil creeps down the basement stairs of the cabin, gun drawn, trying to be as quiet as possible. Hopefully, the rest of his team isn't too far behind him. He peeks around the corner, catching a glimpse of what was going on. 

_Fuck._

Malcolm is injured. His hands are cuffed and chained to the floor. There is a dead body of… something? In the corner. And Martin Whitly, wearing only pants, circles around his son. And he has tattoos on his back similar to his son. _Fuck, that explains everything._

And Gil is alone with the most precious person in the world to him in the most danger right now.

"Oh look, our friend John Watkins was kind enough to leave us with one last syringe of my formula." Martin plucks it up off the back table, spinning around to face Malcolm. "You know when you were just a boy, I had plans to elevate you even higher. For you and your sister. I was even going to transform your mother and add her to our flock once I had tweaked the formula perfectly." 

Martin is about to inject Malcolm near what is clearly a broken wing and Gil couldn't let this happen. He comes out from his hiding spot and holds up his gun to hopefully ease Martin away from Malcolm.

"Gil!" Malcolm looks up, and Gil has never seen a more beautiful sight in his life than those blue eyes finding his. 

"Lieutenant Arroyo… what a surprise." He sounds more like he had been expecting Gil.

"Dr. Whitly." Gil takes a moment to pause, getting the scientist's attention, making sure to use the honorific. "How about a bargain?" 

"Oh?" That catches his attention and he pulls the syringe further from Malcolm's back. Gil is able to breathe a sigh of relief, if only momentarily.

"Instead of him, how about me?"

"Gil, you can't!" Malcolm is in so much pain, and Gil could almost feel it himself. He would do almost anything to save Malcolm from any more. 

Gil lays down his gun, holding up his arms in a sign of surrender. There is no other option. His team isn’t going to get here in time, and there is no telling what an extra dose of that solution would do to Malcolm.

"Take this chance, Dr. Whitly. What you couldn't do to me twenty years ago. I'm giving you another shot." He lowers himself down to his knees, his heart aching the entire time. 

If this had to happen, his only wish would be that Malcolm didn't have to witness it. 

"Please don't do this, Gil." He can hear Malcolm crying, and every fiber of his being screams to go over and comfort him. But Malcolm remains chained to the floor, and Martin is still too close to Malcolm with that syringe.

Gil looks over at his love's face and smiles, knowing that he has to do this, has to be strong for them both. "It's going to be ok, bird boy."

"Gil, it will _kill_ you!" 

"Well, that's no feathers off my back." Martin moves from around Malcolm who strains at the chains, but his injuries have made him weak.

Gil takes a deep breath as he steadies himself. "Dr. Whitly. If you are to do this… you have to promise me that you will not harm Malcolm further."

"Why would I harm what belongs to me? It was that abomination that broke him. And he got what he deserved." Dr. Whitly comes to stand behind Gil, the two of them ignoring the panicked look in Malcolm's eyes. Gil tries his best to reassure Malcolm, though he can feel his eyes begin to tear. He will not look away.

If this is to be the end, he wants Malcolm to be the last being he will ever see. 

"Now, this will go so much better if you remove your shirt, Lieutenant Arroyo."

He does as he is told, removing his sweater and tossing it to the side, staying where he is on his knees. Gil places his hands on his legs and tries to keep his breathing even. 

"Death makes angels of us all and gives us wings where we had shoulders smooth as ravens’ claws." Martin scratches down Gil's back with his talons and Gil fights a wince. He can feel blood welling in its wake. 

"Father, please don't do this!" Malcolm tries to plead with Martin one last time. 

"I am about to turn your mate into an angel, Malcolm. Don't look away, my fledgling."

Without another word, Dr. Whitly injects Gil under both shoulder blades with the syringe before he throws it off near the body of what must be John Watkins.

 _"No! Gil!"_

Malcolm is crying.

He can hear Dr. Whitly laughing.

He hears screaming. 

But mostly he feels pain.

His back is on fire. His nerves are on fire.

Then everything fades black.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "Death makes angels of us all and gives us wings where we had shoulders smooth as ravens’ claws." I borrowed this from Hannibal. It is a Jim Morrison quote and it was absolutely perfect.


	13. Chapter 12

The cement floor feels very cool against his heated skin. He must have fallen forward.

_"Gil…"_

Is that Malcolm? 

_"Gil…"_

He has to make sure Malcolm is safe.

_"Please wake up…"_

Gil slowly blinks his eyes open, then closes them again.

"Oh, thank God you're not dead. Gil." 

He opens his eyes again, still drained and trying to take stock of his surroundings. His head is now in Malcolm's lap, the other attempting to smooth his hair back from his face with his chained hands.

"Wha…" Gil’s throat feels raw. Has he been screaming?

"Here, hold on… I still have some water left." Gil shifts as Malcolm reaches to grab a half empty water bottle next to him, opening it and tilting Gil up to gently pour a little into his mouth. 

"Thanks." Gil's voice is still extremely scratchy. He looks around the room which they are still in. Someone is conspicuously missing. "Where is?"

"Where is my father?" Malcolm attempts to shrug before he winces. "He said he was getting food. He seemed overjoyed that you survived the experiment. Speaking of." Malcolm glares down at his mate. "Don't you ever do something that stupid ever again? Do you hear me?" 

Gil can see Malcolm is starting to get teary eyed again and his heart clenches. Gil brings up a weak arm to swipe away a tear. "I can't promise that. I'd do anything to see you safe." 

"Oh, isn't this just heartwarming." 

Both occupants of the room look up to see Martin returning with a plate of sandwiches. 

"Now, Lieutenant Arroyo, since it is kind of a… shock that you, well, _survived_.. I guess I'm going to have to take you with me. So eat up so we can be on our way." He drops the plate of sandwiches near the two of them and Gil struggles to sit up, all of his energy having been depleted by whatever he went through. 

"We.. aren't going anywhere with you.."

"I'd like to see how a hatchling and a fledgling could ever hope to stop me from doing exactly as I had planned."

With Martin's back turned, he can't see Dani and JT sneaking down the basement stairs. Hopefully, Gil can find the strength to stand. As it is, it takes all of his energy just to sit up.

"Martin Whitly. Put your hands up." 

Detectives Powell and Tarmel come out from their concealed corner, guns aimed on the scientist.

"Oh, shoot. I hadn't planned on being found for at least another hour or two." Martin turns towards the two newcomers in the room, turning his back to Gil and Malcolm. 

"Gil.. that man has wings." Detective Tarmel speaks in a slightly panicked voice. "Why does that man have giant black wings?!"

"JT, I need you to focus." Gil is still way too weak. Hopefully, this will work.

"He's not the only one with wings." Martin arches his shoulders and just like with Malcolm, from his tattoo grows two large brown and white speckled wings.

"Holy shit!!"

His detectives are panicking at something that they were never prepared for. Could never have even been trained for. He has to subdue Martin before he does something serious.

"Malcolm. What is he?" asks Gil.

And through their connection, Malcolm knows exactly what he is asking.

"A red tailed hawk." 

That gives Gil an idea.

He looks around the room and finds exactly what he needs. He prays for the strength to do it. There is no telling what kind of tricks Martin would have up his sleeve.

Gil gets to his feet slowly, ignoring how every fiber of his being screams at him.

Martin might still be posturing, but Gil blocks out the sound of Martin’s voice and he focuses on his task. He creeps over to the corner and grabs a discarded black sheet crumpled in the corner, glancing back at the scientist who is distracted by the two detectives. Martin has his wings up and out, and his wingspan nearly takes up the entire room with its immensity.

Gil lunges and throws the sheet over Martin's head, blinding him.

Martin doesn’t thrash, he slowly lowers his wings, but Gil isn’t sure how long the hood would calm him, or if he would come to his senses and knock it off. 

"Quick! Throw me your handcuffs." 

Dani tosses him a set of handcuffs. Gil grabs Martin's hands and yanks them behind his back, mindful of the talons he manifested. He handcuffs the escaped prisoner.

"JT.. find something to secure the hood. Rope, anything." Gil expends any last bit of energy he had to give and collapses to his knees. 

"Gil!" Malcolm yanks on his chains to try and get closer to his mate, unfortunately pulling on his broken wing, whimpering.

"Get him out of these chains once you've finished securing _Dr._ Whitly." Gil can hear the scientist grumbling underneath the sheet, but all the fight drains out of Martin once he is covered, just as Gil had hoped.

Martin may have a hawk's strengths, but he also has their weakness.

Gil has to check on Malcolm, which he hasn't been able to properly do since he found him. He crawls over to him, still exhausted and in pain from whatever the deranged scientist did to him. 

Finally in front of Malcolm, Gil can see the tears still falling from his beautiful eyes. He reaches up to wipe them away and Malcolm leans his face into his palm.

"I thought I was going to lose you." 

"I'd never leave you, Malcolm. Remember? You told me that I'm your mate. You are mine as well. I bowed to you, I commit to you for life, Malcolm."

Gil leans forward to place a gentle kiss against his mate's lips before pulling back to look him over. "Where else are you injured? What about your wing? Can you put them away until we can get you treatment?" 

Malcolm shakes his head. "I tried. Watkins broke it. I.. I can't seem to hide them. Gil! People will see me! What am I going to do?" Malcolm’s breathing quickens as he panics.

Gil shushes him, brushing his hair back. "It's going to be ok, bird boy. We'll figure it out. One problem at a time." 

"Boss! We found some rope and got his wings tied down, but what the hell is going on? What happened to you? And when the hell did you get a tattoo like that?" Dani calls out from somewhere behind him. 

Gil looks over his shoulder and is treated to a strange sight.

He could see the edges of tattoos not unlike the ones Malcolm had. 

"Oh, you've gotta be kidding me."

"Gil.. it could have killed you. This is the best outcome ever." Malcolm leans forward and lays his head on Gil's shoulder. "Please get me out of these chains. I need to hug you."

☆

It had taken a fair amount of subterfuge to get Malcolm out of the cabin basement unseen and unnoticed by the back up that had arrived. A pair of bolt cutters took care of chains, and then Gil and Malcolm had to support each other the entire way out of the cabin. They found another sheet to help conceal Malcolm's wings. Not much could be done for the broken wing. The bone had been set, albeit roughly by Martin, but would need a splint. And time to heal. 

The question of what to do with Martin Whitly was another thing. He stayed subdued easily enough with the hood, and reluctantly retracted his wings after a few threats from Detective Powell that she would 'cut the damn feather dusters off' if he didn’t.

The Angelmaker had lost a second time. And this time he was going to a more restrictive cage.


	14. Chapter 13

"Dzikus, get down from there! You know the counter is off limits."

It has only been a week since the ordeal with his father and with John Watkins at the cabin. Malcolm is starting to go a little stir crazy.

He's been pretty much locked in his loft for the foreseeable future until his wing healed. In that time, Gil has decided to move in with him.

And he brought his _army of cats._

"I should have considered cat proofing this place a long time ago." 

Though Martin Whitly had technically _set_ his broken wing after killing John Watkins, it wasn't the best situation to be left in. And there was also the matter of the arrowhead still embedded in his leg. Without removing the arrowhead, he was risking a serious infection. Without properly setting the wing, he was risking lifelong pain each time he transformed. 

Thankfully Malcolm had someone he could call on, in the form of a Veterinarian intern who would have some experience with these injuries.

Just not to this extent. Or this…. _size_. 

Marcus had handled the shock well enough upon seeing his boss with large black wings, and promised to keep mum on the subject forever. He understood the severity of just what was at stake. 

That entire day was not one which Malcolm liked to remember. The removal of the arrowhead hurt _like a bitch._

And as it turned out, Watkins broke the humerus of his wing pretty seriously. Marcus gave him a "Sorry Dr. B," and a gentle pat on his shoulder in sympathy before setting the bones properly in place. The entire wing was then immobilized and wrapped against his back. His wings would stay materialized until the bone healed and he could properly put them away. 

And until then? 

_He was stuck in his loft with five cats and a bird._

Marcus had brought Sunshine when he made his house call last week. It was earlier than Malcolm had planned on taking in the beautiful little parakeet, and he didn't have her larger cage set up yet, but he was happy to have her home. While Malcolm was recovering from his injury, he was unable to go to work and see her and his other patients. He had so much sick time and vacation time saved up. The time off wasn't the issue.

The cabin fever was... 

It was just him. Five large Maine Coon mixes. And a small green parakeet that he rescued from a crime scene at which he wasn't technically supposed to be.

Though, that wasn't entirely accurate. 

He also had Gil. 

Most days at least. 

Gil returned to work within two days, stating a need to try and get the copycat case handled as quickly as possible. John Watkins was dead, and his father had killed him. Malcolm wasn’t sure what they did with the body, he didn't ask, and Gil didn't tell him. Malcolm understood why. 

But his mate regularly came home as soon as possible, and took care of everything for him. Gil had been nothing but the most attentive mate while he healed. And thinking about all of the care which Gil gave to him just filled him with warmth.

It would just be so much easier if the cats would listen to Malcolm better. 

And so right now, Malcolm is relaxing on his new chaise lounge that his mother insisted on getting him once she learned of his condition. The absence of a backrest typical of standard couches coupled with the chaise lounge’s soft cushions made it so much easier for Malcolm to relax during the day.

His mother and his sister have been by to visit. Jessica was absolutely devastated over what had happened. But he and Ainsley did their best to reassure their mother that he would be fine in a few weeks. Until then, he was stuck recovering in his own home.

Couldn’t really wander the streets of New York City when you had giant fucking wings which you couldn’t hide.

She handled the news of Gil moving in better than he had originally anticipated. With their long history, there was always the risk that she would have, well, reacted _poorly._ But, she was happy for him, for both of them really.

As long as her son was happy and healthy, that was all that truly mattered to Jessica Whitly. 

Malcolm was thankful to his sister for how she had assisted his mate in locating him. She might have helped save him from a worse fate inflicted by their father.

Malcolm thanked his lucky stars every day for his family. And for his mate.

His mate who should hopefully be returning home from work soon.

"Oh, come on, Boba.. what have I told you?! Leave Sunshine alone."

 _Not soon enough._

Sunshine's larger cage would arrive in a week or so, but Boba just kept wanting to mess with her current cage stand. 

"You keep that up and you are getting put in the bathroom until your Daddy is home." 

He can hear pounding coming up the steps to the door.

"Oh, thank God."

Gil was bringing his detective friends over after work and Malcolm was looking forward to the company. 

He hasn't seen them since they re-arrested his father and helped smuggle him into the back of the Le Mans covered in a black sheet. Ainsley drove them back to his loft since Gil was still too weak from what had happened to him.

"How did I forget you had so many damn cats, Gil??" exclaims Detective Tarmel. 

"I took in the whole litter, JT. And I have an excellent veterinarian for them."

Malcolm smiles from hearing his mate talk about him to his friends.

"Malcolm? We're here." 

The desire to flutter his wings at his mate's voice never leaves and he has to hold back a pained groan at the pull of the wing strapped to his back.

This bone could not heal quickly enough. 

_Fuck._

"Malcolm? Are you feeling alright?" He can hear the worry in Gil's voice. Apparently, he didn't hold the pain back well enough. 

"I'll be alright. You know how it is. Broken wing." Malcolm _very_ carefully leverages himself up from his _extremely_ comfortable chaise lounge. He’s going to have to thank his mother again for thinking of his wings. Why didn't he invest in one of these earlier? 

Gil walks quickly to him to lend support and help him stand; he smiles appreciatively and leans in for a quick kiss. "Welcome home, my mate."

"How was your day?" asks Gil. 

"You know. Same old, same old. Yelled at cats." At this, Malcolm glances over at Dzikus still laying on the counter. "You need to teach your children better manners."

"Technically they're _our_ children now, Malcolm." 

"Ugh. You're right. I've always loved the little fluff balls." 

Gil gives him a once over as he steps away. "Though for real, you're fine, right?"

Malcolm's heart warms at the concern in his voice. "No different than I was this morning." 

They are both brought out of their little bubble by a low whistle of appreciation by the door. Malcolm had nearly forgotten his guests. 

"Nice place you got here. Gil, you are definitely moving up in the world." 

"Um. Thanks." 

Dani walks over to him and looks him over. "You're alright, though? I know we've only met like twice. But you were in a rough way last I saw you." 

Malcolm grimaces. "Technically, you've met me three times."

"What do you mean… three.. times." She looks at his wings, over at Gil, back at Malcolm. "Wait. What are you trying to say." 

Malcolm stretches out his uninjured wing to show it off, trying his best not to strain the other one. "This isn't all I'm capable of."

"I'm not following." JT finally walks closer to them, still a little wary of him and his wings.

Malcolm folds back his wing to ease his sore muscles. "I'm a crow."

"Oh, you've gotta be shitting me."

"I'm afraid not." 

"So that was you. At the crime scene. With him,” says JT. 

"Yep."

"So if you're a bird, does that mean you also lay eggs?"

Dani smacks her partner.

☆

"So where are we exactly?"

Malcolm stands behind Gil and closes his eyes and just breathes the fresh air of the woods he's led them to. It brings about a sense of calm in him, fills him with only pleasant memories.

This is a good place. 

"This is where Ainsley and I came to learn how to fly." 

That got his mate's attention, as Gil turned around and raised his eyebrow and threw out an arm. 

"Here? How did you end up here? We are almost in the middle of nowhere." 

"Well, we're not entirely in the middle of nowhere. I mean, yes, we're pretty damn far from actual civilization, but it's better to show you than to tell you." 

They had traveled more than an hour to get to the edge of this federal park, and then spent nearly another hour walking deep into the woods. Gil trusts Malcolm every step of the way, as he always has.

"This is where I learned to fly." 

Malcolm reaches up and cups his mate's face, smiling. Full of nothing but love. "And this is where you will learn to fly." 

Gil covers Malcolm's hand with his own. "Are we even sure I can? I know I've got the marks, but I'm not special like you." 

Malcolm quieted his doubts with a kiss. "You are every bit as special as me. I just have to show you how to unlock everything." 

They had waited to try this until Malcolm had fully recovered. Gil had fully moved into Malcolm's loft after his recovery instead of their temporary arrangement, and between the two of them, five cats, and a parakeet, everything could not have been going better in their lives. 

It's been several months since the incident at the cabin and fall is just starting to set in. The trees around them are turning to red and orange and yellow.

No one was around for miles. 

Just the two of them. 

It was perfect. 

Malcolm starts to unzip his jacket. 

"Are you really wearing a shirt that says 'Crows before Bros. Support your local murder'?" 

Malcolm looks down at his grey tee shirt, which states exactly that. With an artistically styled crow in flight facing the words. 

"Yes? Ainsley got it for me."

"Of course she did."

"It's not going to matter for long since we both need to strip." 

Malcolm shoves his jacket in the duffle he brought along for this exact purpose. 

"We'll keep our clothing in a central location by the tallest tree we can find. That way it's easy to find our way back."

Malcolm strips off his shirt and adds it to the bag. "Alright. Now you." He gestures with a hand to his mate.

Gil strips his sweater and adds it to the bag and starts on his belt before Malcolm lays a hand on his. "As much as I love seeing you take your pants off we'll leave those on for a little longer." 

He leans in for a quick kiss before Malcolm circles around behind his mate. Gil stands there awkwardly, waiting. "Now what?" 

Malcolm stands there a moment and just admires his mate. 

His tattoo was similar to his own, but the lines were longer, darker. Malcolm was quivering with excitement to see what his mate's wings would look like. 

Malcolm laid his hands on Gil's shoulders before gently tracing his way down the feathers. He could feel Gil tense at his teasing touch and he lays a kiss in the middle of his back in apology and steps back. 

"Close your eyes, my love."

He waits a moment, knowing that Gil will do as he has asked.

"What do you feel inside yourself?"

"I feel…. you." 

"That's our connection. Because we are mates. Now, I want you to imagine wings like mine. I don't know what yours will be, but just imagine what you do when you see mine."

"I can guarantee you for at least the last several years, I have not had any wholesome thoughts about your wings. And I'm not sure how that's going to help."

Malcolm couldn't hold back a smile. "Ok. I'll start then. Turn around and watch me." 

His mate does as he asks and stares in awe at him as he calls forth his wings as he has done a million times. 

"I never get tired of watching you do that. You are breathtaking, Malcolm."

Malcolm stretches out both wings high above him. It feels wonderful to be able to do so after recuperating for a month from a broken humerus. The cabin fever about did him in. 

"You need to learn how to release your wings before you try and learn to transform." 

Gil gives him the most incredulous expression he has ever seen from the other man. "You expect me. To transform. Into a bird. Like you."

Malcolm shrugs. "In theory, it should work. But first the wings. Close your eyes. It's easier if you concentrate." He can hear the other man grumble and he smiles at that. He grabs his mate's hand and squeezes, providing his presence. 

Gil breathes in, and he breathes out. 

He watches with bated breath as Gil manifests his wings. 

_They're beautiful._

They're so much bigger than his, but every bit as black, shimmering blue. 

As Gil looks at them in shock and awe, Malcolm can see the silver running through the feathers.

He has never seen anything more beautiful. 

"You did it. Look at you. You're magnificent, Gil."

_"Holy shit."_

Malcolm reaches out and touches his mate's brand new wings, absolutely in awe that he gets to share this with him. Gil's wings flutter at the sensation. 

"So what do you think I am?" Gil keeps trying to figure out how his wings work, stretching them out, bringing one in front to stroke his own feathers. 

"It's hard to say until you transform. You could be a crow like me." 

"You know, the one thing I've always wondered is why you never flew like this."

Malcolm giggled. "Bones aren't hollow in this form. You give it a try and see how high you get off the ground."

Gil gave a shrug before attempting just that. Needless to say, after flapping his new wings several times, he stayed securely on terra firma.

"Alright. Point made." 

Gil continued to inspect his wings and Malcolm just watched him fondly. 

It was when his mate bent to pick up something that it caught his attention. 

"What have you got there?" 

Gil holds up one long black feather, watching the sun catch the highlights in it. 

"My first dropped feather." 

"Yeah. You'll find that happens a lot. Remember? You live with me. And even before then, you've complained about me shedding feathers everywhere for _years._ "

Malcolm chuckles until Gil holds it out to him. 

"What?" 

"I have your first. I want you to have mine."

"I…" Malcolm reaches out to gently take it from Gil's extended hand, cradling it as though it was the most precious gift ever. 

And between them, it was.

Malcolm was nearly in tears. 

He sets the feather carefully with their bag and then throws his arms around his mate. 

With both of them having wings now, it gets a little awkward trying to hug, until Malcolm pulls his wings in and Gil instinctively wraps his around his mate.

Malcolm has never felt more safe in his life. Here, wrapped in his mate's arms, in his mate's _beautiful new wings._

Gil leans down to kiss him, and everything about this moment is perfect. 

When they part, Malcolm just stares up into his mate's gorgeous brown eyes. "I love you so much, Gil." 

He leans his forehead against Malcolm's for a moment. 

"I love you too, Malcolm."

Gil steps back. "Do you think I'm ready to try the other thing?" 

"Well, you never know unless you try. It is a little harder. But I will be here by your side the entire time." 

Malcolm keeps his wings folded against his back and just admires his mate, smiling as he finally gets to tell him to remove his pants. 

As Gil goes for his belt, Malcolm cannot hold back a comment. "Now that's a sight I'll never get tired of." 

That causes Gil to pause. "Question. Do I need to put these away before trying the next part?"

He thinks for a moment. "It might be easier your first time. To put them away is kind of a reverse of calling them out." 

It took awhile for Gil to put them away but Malcolm was very proud of his quick progress. It probably helped that Gil’s beginnings were a little less traumatic than his own. That he took the change willingly for his mate. And that Gil had an experienced teacher to show him what to do. Malcolm quickly stripped from his own pants, adding both of their shoes to the duffle bag. Malcolm resituates his gift on top and closes the bag.

"Alright." Malcolm looks around and spies what he was looking for, walking over to a fairly large tree in a clearing. "This is as good a spot as any." 

He drops the duffle at the base of the tree and turns to face his mate, rolling his shoulders and already putting his wings to match his mate. 

"So.. what now?" Malcolm looks over his shoulder at Gil standing behind him, not even trying to hide that he is checking him out. Malcolm smirks and turns to face him.

"It's almost the same as before. Concentration on yourself. On me. On whatever leads you to find your other form." 

"Ok… here goes nothing." He knows Gil is feeling unsure of himself in this task. Even if he were able to manifest wings, transforming into another form was different in his mind. 

After a few minutes, Malcolm can tell Gil is getting a little frustrated and walks up to him and grasps his mate's face in both hands, bringing his head to rest against Malcolm's. "Calm your mind, my love. It'll come. I'm right here. I'll always be right here with you. Where I belong."

It was like that was all the encouragement which Gil needed to let go and let the transformation take shape. 

Malcolm was in awe at the sight before him. 

"Gil… you're…" He kneels down to rub the top of his mate's new form. The shiny black feathers show all of the iridescence of his other wings in the light. "You're a raven." 

Malcolm smiles at his mate, watching him stretch out his wings and get a feel for a body that he has never once experienced in his entire life. "Weird, I know. But you'll get used to it. Now give flying a shot before I change."

It took several attempts before Gil managed to leave the ground and get up to the tree branches, but once he was up in the air, he started flying around Malcolm and he could feel the happiness coming from his mate. 

Malcolm was so proud. 

"Alright. My turn!" Malcolm was vibrating with excitement. His mate's first flight. He would never forget today as long as he lived. 

It only took moments for Malcolm to join his mate in form, with decades of experience under his metaphorical belt.

Gil lands next to him and looks down at his mate. In this form he is nearly three times Malcolm's size. Malcolm rubs his bill against Gil's before spreading his wings and taking off.

Malcolm leads them through the woods, taking them above the treetops. He has not felt this free and happy in _years_. 

They spend much of the afternoon just chasing after each other in the sky, stopping to rest when either has need of it. 

Malcolm leads them to one of his favorite places in this park and sets down on the edge of a cliff that overlooks a valley. The range of colours in the trees is truly a sight to behold. The valley also overlooks a river, and even this high up, it sparkles.

Gil lands next to Malcolm and gets his attention by rubbing the top of his head with his bill, and so Malcolm turns towards his mate expectantly.

Gil bows his head. 

Even without words, their connection is thrumming with love. 

Malcolm bows back.


	15. Epilogue

"Why can't I just wear my scrubs for this?"

"Oh, Malcolm, darling you can't wear your _scrubs_ for this. And don't you look just handsome in this suit. It brings out your eyes. And I bet it would bring out the blue in your wings as well." His mother fixed his tie, allowing him to button up his waistcoat. 

He looks up into his mother's eyes, nervous. "Do you think I look alright?" 

Malcolm can tell that she is holding back tears as she smiles at him, smoothing down the front of his suit jacket. "You are nearly perfect, sweetheart, but you are missing just one thing."

She walks over to the table in the middle of the room to grab something. Even though he had asked her, begged really, not to go overboard, his request fell on deaf ears. 

The Grand room had been expertly decorated to her exacting specifications, no detail too small. 

Even though it was more than he or Gil had in mind, he had to admit it was absolutely beautiful. 

He had toured the room earlier while it was being set up, and every surface was covered in flowers provided by Ainsley. There were wide satin ribbon banners strung down from the ceiling in shades of black, blue, and hints of silver. 

It was their colours. 

Malcolm was nearly brought to tears when he saw it for the first time. 

As much as he didn't want his mother to go overboard for this, he is glad that she did.

He is most thankful that this is even happening at all. 

Ainsley peeks her head into the sitting room. "Is he almost ready?" 

They both turn towards Ainsley, and he cannot hold back the warm feelings he has for his sister. They had been through so much together when they were young, things no child should ever have to experience. And he knows that they were lucky, are lucky still now. 

She walks quickly over to him, her white dress flowing behind her, and she throws her arms around Malcolm. 

"Ainsley! Don't mess up his suit! Or the boutonnière. Do you have any idea how long it took me to get him in this suit? Why wouldn't you let me put you in a tux, Malcolm, oh you would have been a vision." He can hear his mother starting to get teary eyed again. 

"Mother, please. Don't go to pieces on me. It's almost time." Ainsley lets go of him and busies herself with righting his boutonnière. She had made it herself, and he feels the love in all of her creations. She had provided the white feathers to give contrast to theirs. He looks down at the pin of feathers on his lapel, made with love, a combination of those closest to him. He gently touches a finger to Gil's feather streaked with just a hint of silver amid the shimmer of blue. 

Ravens look so similar to crows, after all. 

The base of his boutonnière is finished with a small wrap of gems before the stem, and it is every bit as perfect as this day.

"Thank you, Ainsley." He's about to start crying if he thinks about it more.

"Now don't you start, I have mother to deal with. Now, come on. Your mate is waiting."

The three of them make their way to the Grand room, stopping before the closed doors. 

He cannot contain the fluttering he feels inside him, the pull towards who he knows is on the other side of the door. It's not nerves. He doesn't have cold feet. Malcolm has been looking forward to this for a long time. 

His mother and his sister stand at either side of him, supporting him as they always have, and always will. 

Ainsley opens the doors for him, and he watches as Gil, who had been talking to his two detectives before his entrance, zeroes in on Malcolm's grand entrance in a room with less than a dozen people. 

Suddenly, it's like they are the only ones left in the world. 

"Malcolm? Sweetheart? Are you ready?" 

"I've always been ready."

And he walks towards his mate, and the rest of their lives together.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Holy fuck me that was an experience. Thank you so much for reading Numinous. 
> 
> [18+ PSon Trash Server](https://discord.gg/KZxYFDJ) Come hang out 👈👈😎


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